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0I79 U/esley J^a^di9, 



Original Manuscript, 

AS WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 




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THE LIFE 



OF 



John Wesley Hardin. 



FROM THE 



Original Manuscript, 



AS WRITTEN BY HIMSEI.F. 



^ /^ 



PUBLISHED BY 

SMITH & MOORK, SEGUIN, TEXAS 

1896. 



i\<<'-' 






COPYRIGHT 

1896 

By smith & MOORK. 




John Wesley Hardin. 



( lite hicture on opposite page is that of 
Joe Hay din, brother of John Wesley.) 




AKDIN. 



PEEFACE. 



In presenting this auto-biography of John Wesley Hardin to 
the public we feel sure that to many a new light will thus 
be thrown on the life and character of the most notorious 
desperado lexas ever produced. The deeds that men do 
live after them, and to the new generation the name of John 
\V'esley Hardin is associated with the most desperate crimes 
and blood-thirsty atrocities ever printed in a 5-cent novel. 
By reading these pages a certain justice will be done his 
memory. Hardin, in the latter years of his life, often re- 



4 THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

iterated that he had never killed a man wantonly or in 
cold blood, and we believe that this book, evidently written 
without any purpose of self-justification, will bear him out. 
The manuscript itself is written in a clear, blunt and direct 
style, and is given to the public with little, if any, alteration. 
Hardin was a born leader of men, whether for good or evil, 
and had it not been for the unfortunate surroundings of his 
boyhood days, would undoubtedly have made a mark in 
civil life. His determination, often amounting to the most 
daring and unreasonable obstinacy, may be traced through 
tills &elf-told story of his life and can be even detected in 
the bold lines of his handwriting. Brave, reckless and dar- 
ing he certainly was, and he loved his wife and children with 
depth and tenderness. He was a daring character in dar- 
ing times, born with an utter contempt for the consequences 
of yielding to a high and fierce temper. Such, in brief, is 
the framework of the life of the intrepid character to be found 
in these pages. To the Hon. P. S. Sowell, member of the 
Legislature from Guadalupe county, we are indebted for being 
enabled to publish this manuscript. With marked legal abil- 
ity he fought for the claim of the Hardin children through 
the El Paso courts, finally securing this manuscript for the 
heirs. 

The short appendix to be found at the conclusion is com- 
piled from letters and papers found among his effects and 
is published with the consent of his children. 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 



I was bom in Bonham, Fannin county, Texas, on the 26th 
of May, 1853. My father, J. G. Hardin, was a Methodist 
jjn acher and circuit rider. My mother, Elizabeth Hardin, was 
a blonde, highly cultured and charity predominated in her 
disposition. She made my father a model wife and help- 
mate. My father continued to travel his circuit as a preach- 
er until 1869, when he moved and located near Moscow, in 
Folic county, on account of bad health. In the same year 
he moved again, this time to Sumpter, in Trinity county, 
where he taught school. He organized and estabhshed an 
acade?ny, to which institution he sent my elder brother, Joe 
C. Hardin, and myself. In the meantime my father was 
studyiig law, and in 1861 was admitted to the bar. The 
war between the States had broken out at this time and while 
inT father had voted against secession, yet, when his State 
seceded, he went with his State and immediately organized 
a company to fight and, if need be, to die for Southern rights. 
ILi was elected captain of this company, but resigned at the 
solicitation of the best citizens, Capt. Ballinger being elected 
to lh» command. So my father staid at home because, as 
•wiid the foremost men of the community, 'TTou can be of 
D.ore good use at home than off fighting Yankees/' Although 
I was but 9 years old at this time I had already conceived the 
idea of lunning off and going with a cousin to fight Yankees. 
Biit my father got on to the little game and put an end to 
it ail hj giving me a sound thrashing. Still the principles 



6 THE life; of JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

of tliG SoTithern cause loomed up in my mind ever bigger, 
brighter and stronger as tlie months and years rolled on. I 
liad seen Abraham Lincoln burned and shot to pieces in 
effigy so often that I looked upon him as a very demon in- 
car^.ite, who was waging a relentless and cruel war on the 
South .to rob her of her most sacred rights. So you can see 
that the justice of the Southern cause was taught to me in 
m.y ;youth and if I never relinquished these teachings in after 
years, surely I was but true to my early training. The way 
you bend a twig, that is the way it will grow, is an old saying, 
and a true one. So I grew up a rebel. In 1862 my father 
i?'Oved to Livingston, in Polk county, where he taught school 
and practiced law. In 1865 we again moved back to Sumpter 
my father still teaching and practicing law, my brother and 
I being regular scholars. Our parents had taught us from 
our infacy to be honest, truthful and brave, and we were 
taught that no brave boy would let another call him a liar 
with impunity, consequently we had lots of battles with 
other boys at school. I was naturally active and strong and 
always came out best, though sometimes with a bleeding 
nose, scratched face or a black eye; but true to my early 
training, I would try, try, try again. We continued in 
Sumpter at school for some time, and of course I received 
the biggest part of my education there. I always tried to 
excell in my studies, and generally stood at the head. Being 
playful by nature, I was generally first on the playground at 
recess and noon. Marbles, roily hole, cat, bull pen and 
town ball were our principle games and I was considered by 
my school mates an expert. I knew how to knock the mid- 
dle man, throw a hot ball and ply the bat. Of course we 
had examinations and school exhibitions, which were credit- 
able to all concerned, but in 1867 an incident occurred which 



THE UFE OF JOHN WKSLKY HARDIN. 7 

I think proper to relate. We were preparing for an exam- 
ination when one of my schoolmates and myself had an al- 
most fatal fight. His name was Charles Sloter, and as he 
wanted to be the boss among the boys, of course I stood in 
his way. In order to "down^^ me he publicly accused me of 
writing some doggerel on the wall about one "Sal/' a girl 
scholar. It commenced, "I love Sal, and Sal loves mutton/' 
and ended in some reflections upon Sal's personal attrac- 
tions. I knew that he was the author of the poetry, and 
when he accused me of writing it I at once denied it and 
proved it up on him. He came over to my seat in the school 
room, struck me and drew his knife. I stabbed him twice 
almost fatally in the breast and back. A howl at once went 
up to expel me from the school, some even wanting to hang 
me. The trustees, however, heard the true facts in the case 
and instead of expelling me, completely exonerated me and 
the courts acquitted me. 

I may mention here that poor Charley was long after- 
wards hung by a mob in an adjoining county. 

Now, as I am about to leave the story of my boyish days 
and enter upon the description of a course of life which, when 
once entered on, few Hve to reach their majority, I deem 
it proper to say a few words more about the way my early 
days were spent before going on further with the history 
of my Life. I was always a very child of nature and her ways 
and moods were my study. My greatest pleasure was to be 
out in the open fields, the forests, and the swamps. My 
greatest pleasure was to get out among the big pines and 
oaks with my gun and the dogs and kill deer, coons, 'pos- 
sums or wild cats. If any of those Sumpter boys with whom 
I used to hunt ever see this history of my life, I ask them 
to say whether or not our spo^t in those old days was not 
splendid. John Norton, Bill Gordon, Shiles and Hiram 



8 THE LIFE OP JOHN WESI.EY HAKDIN. 

Frazier and Sol Adams, all of Sumpter, can all bear witness 
to the good times we had then. 

We were still living in Polk county when my father took 
up the idea that he would improve his headright, situated 
about three miles northwest of Livingstone, l)ordering on 
Ti< ng King creek. Capt. T. L. Eperson of Livingstone con- 
ceived the same idea about his headright at the same time 
as my father, and I believe he made a success of his venture 
in farming. Not so, my father. He soon became dis- 
gusted with country life and actually gave his headright farm 
and improvements on it to his brother, Barnett Hardin and 
wife, whose name was Anne. I do not know the reason of 
this generosity, but beheve it was in order that neither he, 
his wife or his children should ever be bothered with the 
plague of ticks that infested the place. Of all places I have 
ever been I believe that to have been the most accursedly 
"ticky." I believe now my father to have been a most wise 
man in giving that place away. When we were improving 
it we had six or eight colored men clearing up, rail splitting, 
building houses, etc. It is needless to say that brother Joe 
and myself spent most of our time out there with the negroes, 
dogs, and, of course, the ticks. What a big time we had 
hunting and fishing with them I (The ticks, as well as the 
negroes and dogs, for the ticks went wherever we did.) I re- 
member a hunt I got into by my lone self which is worth 
narrating before I leave my early days. We had a horse 
named Jack, which had strayed away and we finally heard of 
him at old Mr. Bob Sikes, about three miles and a half west of 
our place. I was told to go and get Jack, so next morning, 
after locating his whereabouts, I called my dogs, got my bridle 
and a rope and started out afoot after "Jack." I got to old 
Bob Sikes' place, found "Jack" there and of course the old 
man would have me stay to dinner. I eat heartily as the 



THE I.1FE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 9 

meal was gotten up in good country style. It was late when 
I started back to the Hardin camp with "Jack" and my dogs. 
It was drizzling rain and the skies looked black. We had 
about three and a half miles of dense wood to go through, 
and report had it that wild animals abounded there. How- 
ever, I had great confidence in Jack and my dogs and nothing 
but a ghost could scare me imless it was lightning. I started 
the dogs out and presently I heard old Watch bark and later 
on I heard the others all baying as if they had sure enough 
found something. I took the course and after going a mile, 
found Watch at the foot of a big whiteoak tree, looking up 
and gnawing at the base, while the other dogs were about 
twenty yards off looking up into the branches of the big oak. 
I looked up and finally made out four big coons up at the 
very top of the tree. Now I wanted those coons to take to 
camp as a trophy of my trip. I knew that Joe would laud 
me to the skies if I succeeded in getting them, and it meant a 
big stew for all hands that night. There were no limbs for 
me to reach, so I decided to ride "Jack" up close ta the trunk, 
stand up on his back and throw the rope over the lowest limb. 
I did this, trusting to Jack to stand still and not run off. 
The next two Hmbs were away above me but with the use of 
the rope I got to the limb where the coons were. The coons, 
however, concluding the situation was getting decidedly hot, 
decided to charge me. They began to form in line, one be- 
hind the other, to growl and show fight. Meanwhile I had 
tied myself securely to the tree and had broken off a bough 
to defend myself with. Here came the coons and attacked 
me at once. I struck right and left with my weapon, but 
it broke in pieces the first lick, so I had nothing left but my 
fists. I fought hard and long, and one by one I knocked 
those coons out of that tree top fifty feet high, and they no 
sooner hit the ground than the dogs made short work of 



10 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

them. I then untied myse]f from the tree and with the use 
of the rope I reached the ground a wiser, if not a hraver. boy. 
1 was covered with blood from head to foot; my hands, face 
and breast were torn and lacerated, being badly bitten and 
scratched. I had to leave my rope up on the first limb, so 
when I dropped to the ground I piled the coons up and tied 
them together with my galluses. I then sat down and made 
a rope out of my breeches to lead the faithful "Jack.'^ I 
was in a nice fix now; three miles from home, raining, a loose 
horse, four coons and three dogs, going through a swamp in 
my shirt tail and night coming on. To make matters worse. 
Jack rebelled against packing these coons. Of all the pitch- 
ing, jumping and kicking you ever saw. Jack did it then. 
After considerable begging and coaxing I finally induced 
Jack to let me and the coons ride. We all struck out for camp 
and got there after dark. On our arrival we had a regular 
jollification. They told me that they wondered why I was 
not lying a dead boy in that swamp after such an experience. 
I told them that it was pluck that both saved me and cap- 
tured the coons. Here I wish to tell my readers that if there 
is any power to save a man, woman or child from harm, out- 
side the power of the Living God, it is this thing called pluck. 
I never was afraid of anything except ghosts, and I have lived 
that down now and they have no terrors for me. Constant 
association with negroes in my young days had made me 
superstitious in this respect, and I was well versed in old folk 
lore about ghosts, spirits, dead men's shadows, grave yards, 
etc., and many a time then did I honestly believe I had seen 
them. 

The first man I ever saw killed I will now tell you about. 
His name was Turner Evans and he was killed by old John 
Ruff in the town of Sumpter, Trinity county, Texas, in the 
voar 18C1 . My father had just organized his company of sol- 



THK LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 1 1 

diers to go to the seat of war at Eichmond. I remember 
the day well. Ruff was a poor man and owed Turner Evans. 
Evans was overbearing and besides running an attachment 
on Ruff's property, annoyed him greatly in every way. Late 
in the evening Evans began to drink, and being rich and in- 
fluential, had a crowd of hangers on around him. Fired by 
whisky he began late in the evening to go around town from 
store to store inquiring for Rujff, declaring that he would cane 
him wherever he found him. At last he found him in a small 
grocery store and at once commenced to curse and abuse him. 
Ruff said: "Turner, you have ruined me financially and 
now come with your crowd to attack me personally. Go off." 
Evans said: "I will, after I have caned you," and so saying 
he struck him over the head with his cane. Ruff pulled a 
large Bowie knife and started for Evans. Evans' friends hit 
Ruff with chairs and tried to stop him, while Evans liimself 
used his stick freely. Ruff, however, was by this time a deter- 
mined and angry man, and cut at everybody that tried to stop 
him. He finally cut Evans down, and the sheriff appearing 
on the scene. Ruff was at once arrested. Evans' friends car- 
ried him off, but his wounds were fatal, the jugular vein be- 
ing completely severed, he soon died and left a large family. 
Ruff, after lying in jail for several years, came clear. Read- 
er?, you see what drink and passion will do. If you wish to 
be successful in life, be temperate and control your passions; 
if you don't, ruin and death is the inevitable result. 

In the fall of 1868, I went down to my uncle's (Barnett 
Hardin) in Polk county, about four miles north of Living- 
stone. I was in the habit of making these trips, though T 
was then but 15 years old. This time they were maidng 
sugar and I took the trip to see them, carrying my pistol of 
course. I met a negro named Mage close to Moscow who had 
belonged to Judge Holshousen, a brother to my Uncle Bar- 



12 TH^ I,IPK OP JOHN WKSI^EY HARDIN.* 

nett Hardin's wife. I had a cousin named Bamett Jones 
who matched himself and me against this Moscow negro in 
a wrestling bout. The negro was a large, powerful man, 
and we were hut two hoys. Nevertheless we threw him down 
the first fall. He was not satisfied, so we threw him again, 
and this time scratched his face a little and made it bleed. 
Negro like, he got mad and said he could whip me and woiild 
do it. Barnett and others standing around stopped us from 
fipliting. This seemed to make Mage all the more angry. 
He said he would kill me, and went after his gun. I went up 
to the house to get mine, too, but Uncle Barnett got on to 
the game and made me stay in the house, while that negro 
went around cursing and abusing me, saying "that he would 
kill me or die himself; that no white boy could draw his 
blood and live; that a bird never flew too high not to come 
to the ground." Uncle Barnett then took a hand and order- 
ed Mage off the plantation. The next morning I had to 
start home and go about seven or eight miles out of the way 
to deliver a niessage from my father to old Capt. Sam Rowes. 
About six miles from Capt. Rowes' place and eight from Judge 
IJoalshousen's, I overtook the negro Mage. He was walking 
and had a stout stick in his hand. A small creek ran to the 
east of the road, \vhich made a sharp bend of about 100 yards, 
and from bend to bend ran a path. Just as I overtook Mage 
he took the path while I stayed in the main road. He had 
gone about fifteen steps before he turned and saw me. He 
recognized me at once and began to curse and abuse me, say- 
ing that I was a coward for not shooting it out last night. 
I told him that I was but playing with him when I scratched 
him rnd did not intend to hurt him. He answered by say 
ing thf?.t if he could but get hold of me he would kill me and 
throv: me in tlie creek; that he believed he could outrun old 
"Paint" (th) Lorsc I was riding, and a very poor one), and 



THE I.IFK OF JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 13" 

cat'.'h ne any -^a} I told him to go his way and let me go 
mino, and vliiipec^ old Paint into a trot. Mage, seeing this, 
ran along the path to where it again met the main road and 
cut me off. He cursed me again and threatened me with 
death. 

I stopped in the road and he came at me with his big stick. 
lie struck me, and as he did it I pulled out a Colt's 44 six- 
shooter and told him to get hack. By this time he had my 
horse by the bridle, but I shot him loose. He kept coming 
back and every time l.c wiMid start I would shoo+ again and 
again until 1 shot him down. I went to Uncle Clabe Houls- 
housenand brought him and another man back to where Mage 
was lying. Mage still showed fight and called me a liar, it 
it had not been for ujj- uncle 1 would have shot hi en again. 
Uncle Houlshousen gave me a $20 gold piece and told me 
to go home and tell father all about the big fight; that 
Mage v/as bound to die, and for me to look out for the Yan- 
kee soldiers who wcjc all over tlie country at that time. TeYar. 
like other States, was then overrun with carpet-baggers and 
bureau agents who had the United States army to back them 
up in their meanntj^s. Mage shortly died in November, 1868. 
Tlds was V.G fir?t man I ever fcL'ed^ and it nearly distracted 
my father and mother when I told them. All the courts 
were then conducted by bureau agents and renegades, who 
were the inveterate enemies of the South and administered 
a code of justice to suit every case that 
canie before them and which invariably ended 
in gross injustice to Southern people, especially to 
those who still openly held on to the principles of the South. 
To be tried at that time for the killing of a negro meant 
certaiii death at tho hands of a court, backed by Northern 
biyonets; hence m\ father told me to keep in hiding until 
ihat good time v. hen the Yankee bayonet should cease to gov- 



14 the; i^ifk of john wksi<Ey hardin. 

ern Thus, unwillingly I became a fugitive, not from justice 
be it known, but from the injustice and misrule of the people 
who had subjugated the South. I had an elder brother 
teaching school on Logallis Prairie, about twenty-five miles 
north of Su^npter, so I went up there intending in a few weeks 
to go to Navarro county where I had relatives. So I stayed 
at old man Morgi-n's in an out of the way place and spent my 
time hunting wild cattle and game. In a little while the 
United States soldiers heard of my whereabouts and came 
after me. ^ly bi other, however, had heard of their coming 
and had told me. I soon was after them instead of they 
jiftcr i> ." \\e met in the bed of a deep creek and after a 
sl^arp fight two white soldiers lay dead, while a negro soldier 
W'5 flyirjg lor Im life. I ran up on him and demanded his 
rurrendci" in the name of the Southern Confederacy. He 
answered me with a shot, when I brought him to the ground 
with a bullet from my Colt's 44. All this was kept very se- 
cret, and these soldiers were buried in the bed of the creek 
about 100 yards below where the fight took place. I knew 
they ^\'ould cross the creek where they did so. I waylaid 
them, as I had no mercy on men whom I knew only wanted to 
get my body to torture, and kill. It was war to the knife with 
me and I l.irougJit it on by opening the fight with a double- 
barrelled shot gun and ending it with a cap and ball six- 
shootor. TJms it was that by the fall of 1868 I had killed 
four men and wap, myself wounded in the arm. Parties in 
the neighbor] lood of the last fight took the soldiers' horses, 
and as we burned all their effects, everything was kept quiet. 
In January, 18r.^*, I went \vith my father to Navarro county 
and engaged ii; £-chool teaching near Pisga. I had about 
twenty-five scholars, both girls and boys, from the age of 
6 to 1() years. I taught school for three months at the old 
Word school house and when the term was out the school was 



THE lylFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 1 5 

offiercd to me again. I had, however, conceived the idea of 
beconaug a cow boy, and as my cousins were in the business 
T l.egan to drive cattle to shipping points. Of course in this 
ki'id of a II f»' i &o(»n learned how to play poker, seven-up, 
and euclire, ar-d it wa- but a short time until I would banter 
the best for a game. 1 liked fast horses and soon would bet 
on any kind of a horse lace, a chicken fight, a dog fight, or 
anything down to throwing ^^crack-a-loo," or spitting at a 
mark. 

In those times if there was anything that could rouse my 
passion it was seeing imprdent negroes lately freed insult or 
abuse old, wounded Confederates who were decrepit, weak or 
old. There were lots of those kind in the country in the 
sixties, and these negroes bullied both them and even the 
weaker sex whenever they had the advantage. Frequently 
I involved mys^elf in almost inextric'il>le difficulties in this 
way. Once I learned that in one of tlio eastern counties tnero 
was a most insulting and bulldozing negro bully who made it 
a point to insult these decrepit old men, and who paid no 
respfi^jt t<» while ladies. In short, he was a teiTor to th*^ 
community. I thought over this until I determined to see 
what could be done to stop him and his wickedness. I went 
to that neighborhood and found out when he was in the habit 
of going to town. I dressed myself as an old man and met 
him in the road. Of course when we met I would not give 
him the road and he at once commenced his tirade of abuse. 
I told him that I was old and feeble and lived in a distant 
country, but that I was a Southerner and did not want a big 
burley negro to treat me the way he was doing. This en- 
raged him. He stopped his steers, Jumped down off his 
wagon and commenced to pop his whip at me, calling me 
vile names and low down white trash. He popped me at last 
and I could not stand it any longer. I pulled off my mask. 



1 6 THE) I,IFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

drew my six-shooter and told him to say his prayers. I told 
him I was going to kill him for his cruelty to white folks, 
but did not want to send him before his Maker without a 
chance to repent. He certainly prayed a prayer. "Jesus 
have mercy on dis bad nigger, and have mercy on all de poor 
white men and keep dis young white man from killing dis 
bad nigger." About this time my pistol went off and his 
prayer abruptly ended. The ball did not strike the negro, 
but it had the desired effect, for it reformed him completely. 
That negro afterwards became one of the best citizens of 
that county; became civil and polite and was never known 
to insult a white person, male or female, after that. 

While living near Pisga, in Navarro county, I had made 
the acquaintance of nearly everybody there at that time. I 
knew the notorious desperado Frank Polk, who was finally 
killed at Wortham in Limestone county while resisting ar- 
rest after having killed the mayor of that town. 

T knew the Newmans, the Tramels, the Eushings; the An- 
dersons and Dixons were cousins of mine. I may mention 
here that I met Jim Newman quite lately and in talking over 
old times near Pisga in 1869, he asked me if I remembered 
how some fellow jumped when I shot at him. I told him, 
"Yes, I remember it." "Well," said Jim Newman, 'H bet 
you at that time that you could not shoot his eye out, and we 
had a bottle of whisky on it; come in, now; it is my treat." I 
suppose I won the bet but did not recollect it after so many 
years. This same Jim Newman is now sheriff of Nolan 
county; his post office is Sweetwater. 

Frank Polk had killed a man named Tom Brady and a de- 
tachment of Yankees came out from Corsicana to capture 
Polk and myself. They, as usual, failed on me, but got 
Frank. They carried him to Corsicana, where, afte*. a long 
confinment, he finally came clear. At that time I had a 



THE LIKK OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 1 7 

cousin named Simp Dixon, who belonged to the "Ku Klnek 
Klan" and was sworn, to kill Yankee soldiers as long as he 
lived. He had been raised in Northern Texas, but was forced 
to fly from there. His mother, brother and sister were tor- 
tured and killed by the United States soldiers because of their 
loyalty to the Southern cause. Simp, therefore, had good 
cause for hating the Yankees. There was a big reward for 
Simp and so, of course, I sympathized with him in every 
way and was generally with him. On one occasion in the 
Richland bottom a squad of soldiers ran up on us and a 
pitched battle immediately ensued. It was a free and fast 
fight. When the battle was over two soldiers lay dead. 
Simp killed one and I killed the other, while the rest escaped. 
Simp was afterwards killed by a squad of United States sol- 
diers at Cotton Gin, in Limestone county. He was un- 
doubtedly one of the most dangerous men in Texas. He 
was born in Fannin county in 1850 and was about 19 years 
old ai the time of his death. 

Late in the fall of 1869 my brother, Joe Hardin, came to 

see me and persuaded me to leave Navarro county, which I 

consented to do, and we went into Hill county, stopping a 

short time at Hillsboro with Aunt Anne Hardin and family 

and then going out some seven or eight miles into the county 

to Uncle Barnett Hardin's. We then went down the Brazos 

to some relatives of ours named Page, where I speculated in 

cotton and hides. I played poker and seven-up whenever I 

got a chance and once in a while would bet on a pony race. 

These races generally came off on the old Boles tracks near 

Towash. A man named John Collins had married a cousin 

of mine and I went into partnership with him. Things ran 

smoothly for some time and we were doing well until a tragedy 

occurred that forever dissolved our partnership. I had been 

receiving letters from my father and mother urging me to 



1 8 THK LIFK OF JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. 

quit my wild habits and turn to better ways. They wrote 
that they were going to move down to the Page settlement 
so that they could be with me. On the 24th of December 
my father came to see me and brought me good news from 
all the loved ones at home, and telling me that they had all 
moved to Navarro county. Next day was Christmas day and 
I borrowed my father's horse, a pretty good runner, to go 
to the grocery and the races at the old Boles tracks. Collins 
and I had matched some races to be run on that day, but of 
couise we never told my father about this. There were a lot 
of Arkansas people there with horses; especially do I remem- 
ber Hamp Davis and Jim Bradly. We came very near having 
a shooting inatch several times that day, as everybody in the 
'60s carried pistols, but all left the track apparently satisfied. 
Jim Bradly, whom I have mentioned above, was introduced 
to me as a desperado and a killer. I had been reliably in- 
formed that he was there for my especial benefit, but in those 
days an unknown desperado had as much influence on me as 
a snaffle bit on a wild horse. After the races about fiiteen or 
twenty of us went to a grocery near by kept by Dire & Jen- 
kins; there was a gin there and one or two stores. We soon 
got into a poker game. I had won $50 or $75 on the races 
and had $825 besides, thus having about $400 in all. At 
this time I was but 16 years old. It was arranged that Col- 
lins, my partner, was not to play, but Jim Bradly (the Ar- 
kansas bully) had borrowed his six-shooter. The game was 
composed of Jim Bradly, Hamp Davis, Judge Moore and 
myself. I knew afterwards that these three stood in against 
me but did not know this at the time. One tiling, however, 
I (]i6 know, and that was how to protect myself pretty well 
from such fellows in a game of draw poker. I placed about 
$350 in gold in front of me and about $10 in silver. Bradly, 
on my left, placed in front of himself about $5 in silver and 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WKSI^EY HARDIN. I9 

$20 in gold; Davis, on Bradly's left, about $10 in silver and 
$40 in gold, and Moore about $30 in gold. The game pro- 
ceeded quietl}^ imtil about 12 o'clock at night, about wliich 
time I had won all the money. We were playing on a blan- 
ket in a small box house without a door but with a place open 
for a chimney in the north end. The house was about 13x14 
feet and was situated about a quarter of a mile north from 
the grocery. The moon was shining brightly and the night 
was clear and cold. I had won all the money on the blanket, 
as I said before, and all the players owed me. I had pulled 
off my boots and thrown them in the comer to my left next 
to Bradly, not suspecting that robbery was the intention of 
the game. I was quietly fixing to quit the game unknown to 
the others and had put all the gold in my pocket, only hav- 
ing about $25 or $30 in front of me. Moore remarked that 
everybody owed Hardin. I said: ^'Yes," but Jim Bradly said 
no, and we left it to Moore and Davis to decide. They said, 
"Yes, you owe Hardin $5." About this time we both got 
good hands and I bet him $5 on three aces. He made me 
put up the money but "called" me without putting up a cent. 
I said to him: "Now you owe me $10, let us settle up or 
quit." He said: "You are a g — d — liar and a coward," drew 
a big knife, and quick as a cat could wink made a grab for 
me, while Davis got my six-shooter in the corner. Collins 
then threw himself between Bradly and me and kept him 
from stabbing me to death. This gave me a chance to get 
up and when I did Bradly drew his six-shooter and threaten- 
ed to kill me if I did not give up my money. "Give me $500 or 
I will kill you, g — d — you," he said. Collins came to my rescue 
again and grabbed him, crying to me to jump out of the 
chimney opening or I would be killed. Out I went, bare- 
footed on the frosty ground and ran out to our horses. 
Davis gave me a fearful cursing, calling me a murderer, a 



20 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

coward, a robber and saying he would get me before day. 
Collins came out to where I was standing behind a tree and 
said: "John, let us go home; we are in a hell of a scrape." 
I said: "Where is your pistol?" He said: "Bradly bor- 
rowed it in the early part of the night." ^^o," I said, "I 
am not going home and face my father in this condition; I 
want my boots, my money and my pistol. Don^t be a fool, 
but take things coolly." Collins went back to get my boots, 
which Bradly finally gave him permisison to do. Bradly 
continued to abuse me and went to the grocery with his 
crowd, who, by this time were all cursing me as a man who 
had been posing as a brave man, but who in fact was a coward 
and a damned rascal. As soon as I got my boots on I told Col- 
lins I wanted to go and see Moore, who had my money and pis- 
tol. He said he would go with me to his boarding house, as he 
knew the proprietor. We left our horses where they were 
and found Moore at the boarding house. He refused to give 
up either the pistol or the money without Bradly's consent. 
He agreed to go with Collins to see Bradly at the grocery 
about 100 yards off across the road in an easterly direction. 
When they got to the grocery and saw Bradly he was still 
cursing. He threatened Collins and swore he would kill 
me if he could find me. Moore told him I was at his board- 
ing house after my pistol and money. "Bradly said: "Well, 
I'll go over there and fill him full of lead." Meantime Col- 
lins had borrowed a pistol and pursuaded Bradly to exchange 
telling him he was going home and wanted his own. John 
Collins bade him good bye and came back to the boarding 
house where I was. He wanted me to go home, but by this 
time Bradly had started over to where I was, swearing to kill 
me. The proprietor was trying to get me to leave, when I 
asked him for a pistol to defend myself with from robbery 
aud death. He refused to do this, but Collins gave me his 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 21 

and said: '*Now let us go to our horses." I said, "All 0. 
K." and we started to go out of the gate and into the pub- 
lic road that lead to where our horses were. Just as we got 
out of the gate we saw Bradly with six or seven others, in- 
cluding Hamp Davis, coming towards us, threatening to kill 
nic, his crowd urging him on by shouting: "Go for him! 
We are with you," etc. I told John Collins to go in the lead. 
The gin was on the right, about fifty yards away, with a store 
about fifty yards from where we were standing. Bradly saw 
me aiid tried to cut me off, getting in front of me with a pis- 
tol in one hand and a Bowie knife in the other. He com- 
menced to fire on me, firing once, then snapping and then 
firing again. By this time we were within five or six feet of 
each other and I fired with a Eemington 45 at his heart and 
right after that at his head. As he staggered and fell he 
Siiid: "0, Lordy, don't shoot me any more." I could not 
stop. I was shooting because I did not want to take chances 
on a reaction. The crowd ran, and I stood there and 
cursed them loud and long as cowardly devils who had 
urged a man to fight and when he did and fell, to desert him 
like cowards and traitors. I went to my horse, rode over to 
Frank Shelton's, borrowed a gun, came back and demanded 
my money, but received no answer. I went on to where my 
father was at old Jim Pages' and got there at 2 a.m. I woke 
him up and told him what had happened. It was a great 
blow to him, for he had been counting on taking me back 
home with him. I told him I would go home anyway, but 
would keep on the west side of the Brazos river until the 
next night. I soon found out the situation was critical. The 
whole country with the exception of a few friends and rela- 
tives, had turned out to hunt me; in fact, there was a regu- 
lar mob after me, whose avowed purpose was to hang me. I 
had agreed with my father to meet him at a certain place 



22 THK I.IFK OF JOHN WESLKY HARDIN. 

on the night of the 26th, but they watched him so closely 
that he could not come. He had a trusted Masonic friend, 
however, named Martin, whom he sent to post me as to what 
was going on. Directly after Martin had left me a posse 
of some fifteen men ran up and surrounded me m a cotton 
pen. I told them that if they were officers to send one or 
two men and I would surrender, but I would not yield to a 
mob. They answered that I must give up or take the conse- 
quences. I replied: ^'Consequences be damned. Light in 
if you think there is no bottom.'' I commenced to pump 
lead at them and they cried, ''Hold up.'' They then sent 
two men up to demand my surrender. When they came, I 
covered them with a double barrelled shot gun and told them 
their lives depended on their actions, and unless they obey- 
ed my orders to the letter, I would shoot first one and then 
the other. They readily assented. "Tell your friends out 
there," I said, "that Hardin has surrendered and that they 
had better go home or meet you at old Jim Pages', that Har- 
din is afraid of a mob." They did so and the crowd moved 
off toward Pages'. When they were out of sight I made both 
men with me lay down their arms. One had a double bar- 
relled gun and two siy-shooters; the other had a rifle and two 
derringers. They complied with my request under the potent 
pereuasion of my gun leveled first on one and then the other. 
I then got on my horse and told those fellows to follow their 
pa's to Jim Pages'; that I would be along directly and to wait 
for me there. I reckon they are waiting for me there yet. 
I went off to the west, but soon changed to the east; went 
through Hillsboro and into Navarro county. There I saw 
my dear mother and my brothers and sisters. Soon after, 
my father came and brought me the news 
that they were hot after me and were go- 
ing to Pisga hoping to find me there. I got together three or 



tub: tIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 23 

four of my best friends and went to meet them. We met 
them on the west side of the Pinoak, about six miles from 
Pisga. They denied that they were after me. I told them 
to go back to Jim Pages' where I was going and where an ar- 
resting party was now waiting for me. I told them if they 
bad a legal warrant to show it and I would give up. They 
said they had none. Thereupon one of my party took oc- 
casion to tell them they had gone far enough towards Pisga 
and that if they loved their wives and children to go back to 
Hillsboro. They went. I went back to Pisga, fixed up my 
affairs with Aleck Barrickman, started for Brenham on the 
20th of January, 1870. I intended to visit my uncle. Bob 
Hardin, there. About twenty-five miles from Pisga a circus 
was going on at a place called Horn Hill. One of the circus 
men had had a row with some of the citizens, resulting in 
some men being shot. We knew nothing about this and 
upon getting to town went to an hotel to get a bed. The 
circus people had all the beds engaged, so we could not get 
one. About 10 p. m. we went out to the circus camp fires. 
It was quite cold and while we were all standing round the 
fire I accidently struck the hand of a circus man who was 
lighting his pipe with a fagot from the fire. I begged his 
pardon at once and assured him it was a pure accident. He, 
however, just roared and bellowed and swore he would "smash 
my nose.'' I told him to smash and be damned; that I was a 
kind of a smasher myself. He said: "You are, are you?" 
struck me on the nose and started to pull his gun. I pulled 
mine and fired. He fell with a 45 ball through his head. 
Barrickman covered the crowd until we could make a truce. 
I saddled our horses and we rode off, apparently to the north, 
but soon changed our course south. We met nobody who 
knew us, so after Barrickman had ridden with me about six- 
teen miles he returned back to Pisga and I went on to Bren- 



24 THR LIFE OF JOHN WKSLKY HARDIN. 

ham by way of Kosse, Calvert and Bryant. I was young 
then and loved every pretty girl I met, and at Kosse I met 
one and we got along famously together. I made an engage- 
ment to call on her that night and did so. I had not been 
there long when some one made a row at the door of the 
house. She got seared and told me it was her sweetheart, 
and about this time the fellow came in and told me he would 
kill me if I did not give him $100. I told him to go slow, 
and not to be in such a hurry; that I only had about $50 or 
$60 in my pocket, but if he would go with me to the stable 
I would give him more as I had the money in my saddle 
pockets. He said he would go, and I, pretending to be 
scared, started for the stable. He said: ''Give me what you 
have got first. ^^ I told him all right, and in so doing, drop- 
ped some of it on the floor. He stooped down to pick it up 
and as he was straightening up I pulled my pistol and fired. 
The ball struck him between the eyes and he fell over, a 
dead robber. I stopped long enough to get back most of my 
money and resumed my journey to Brenham. I arrived there 
about the last of January, 1870, and went to Uncle Bob Har- 
din's, who was then improving his place. He persuaded me 
to farm with him and his boys, William, Aaron and Joe. Al}/ 
the money I had I gave to my aunt to keep for me. I thus 
became a farmer and made a good plough boy and hoer. I 
would often want to go to Brenham and did go with William 
or Aaron or Joe. I used to find it hard to get my money 
from my good aunt. I used to tell her I had to go to town 
to get me a pair of shoes or a hat and that she could not suit 
me if she went. On one occasion I won about $60 at roulette 
and when I brought my aunt the money she wanted to know 
where I got that money. I told her with a laugh that I had 
that money all the time. On another occasion Will and 
I rode our best horses to town and hitched them to the coui't 



THK LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 25 

house fence. When we got through "sporting" and came 
back for our horses we found them gone. They had evident- 
ly been stolen and though we rode a hundred miles or more 
we never laid eyes on those horses again. 

I met a good many well known characters on those trips 
to Brenham. I used to gamble a good deal and it was there 
I got the name of "Young Seven-up." I met Phil Coe first 
there in Brenham, that notorious Phil Coe^ who was after- 
wards killed in Abilene, Kansas, by ""Wild Bill." I stayed at 
my uncle's until the crops were laid by and though prospects 
were splendid, the country was getting pretty hot for me. 
The State police had been organized and McAnally had been 
placed on the force, so on consultation with friends, it was 
thought best that I should leave Brenham. I sold out my 
interest in the crop and again started on my roaming life. 
I first went to Evergreen, about 40 miles from Brenham. 
There were some races there and the town was full of hard 
characters. Bill Longley and Ben Hinds were there, as was 
also Jim Brown. In those days they gambled in the open air 
out in the streets when the weather permitted. Ben Hinds 
and I commenced playing "seven-up" on a goods box and I 
won about $30 from him, when I concluded to quit. He 
got mad and said if Iwas not a boy he would beat me to death. 
Ben was considered one of the most dangerous men in the 
country, but in those days I made no distinction in men as 
fighters. I told him I stood in men's shoes and not to spoil 
a good intention on account of my youth. He yelled at me: 
"You damned little impudent scoundrel, Pll beat hell out of 
you." As he made for me I covered him with my pistol and 
told him I was a little on the scrap myself, the only difference 
between him and I being that I used lead. About this time 
a dozen men had gathered around. Some of them tried to 
catch me and others started to draw their pistols. I said: 



26 THE I.IEE OF JOHN WKSI^BY HARDIN. 

"The first man that makes a move or draws a gun I'll kill 
him." At the same time I drew my other pistol and made 
them all get in front of me, sa3dng that I wanted no back 
action in this fight. You bet they got in front of me in 
short order. Ben then said: "Young man, I was wrong, 
I beg your pardon. You are a giant with a youth's face. 
Even if you are a boy I bow to you, and here is my hand in 
good faith." I answered: "I can not take your hand, but 
I accept your apology in good faith." Ben said: "I will 
be your friend; don't be uneasy while you are here; Bill 
Longley will be at the races tomorrow, so stop over and we 
will have a good time." 

Late that evening a dark looking man came to me and 
said: "My name is Bill Longley and I believe you are a spy 
for McAnally. If you don't watch out you will be shot all 
to pieces before you know it." 

I said: "You believe a damned lie and all I ask is that 
those who are going to do the shooting will get in front of 
me. All I ask is a fair fight, and if your name is Bill Long- 
ley I want you to understand that you can't bulldoze or 
scare me." 

Bill replied: "I see I have made a mistake. Are you 
here to see the races?" 

I told him "not particularly." He invited me to stay over 
and see the horses. We went and struck a poker game going 
on in a crib. We both got into the game. Directly it came 
my turn to deal. I had three jacks to go on and raised $5. 
All stayed in and in the draw Bill drew three cards, while the 
other two players drew one apiece. I drew two and caught 
the other jack. Bill filled on aces. One of the other players 
made a flush and the other filled on queens. The flush man 
bet $5, the man with a full went $10 better. I studied a 
while and said: *^ou can't run me out on my own deal, 



THE I.IFB OF JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. 27 

SO I go $10 better." Bill Longley said: 'Well, stranger, you 
I'.a^e your foot in it now; I go you $50 better." The man 
with a flush passed; the man with a queen full says: "Bill, 
I call a sight." 

Bill says: "All right; how much money have you got?" 

He counted out $45. 

"Well, stranger," said Bill, "it's up to you. What do you 
do?" 

I said: "What are you betting; wind or money?" 

He said: "Money." 

'Tut it up," said I. 

He went down in his pocket and pulled out four $20 gold 
pieces and took out a $5 gold piece. 

I said, "All right," here is your $50 and I go you $250 bet- 
ter. 

He said: "I go you; I call you." 

I told him to put up the money. He asked me if his word 
was not good and I told him no. He went into his pocket 
again and pulled out eleven $20 gold pieces and asked me if 
I would credit him for the balance. I told him no, 

"Well," he said, "I call you for $220." 

I told him all right. "I reckon you have me beat." 

He said: "I reckon so. I have got an ace full." 

I said: "Hold on, I have two pair." 

He said: "They are not worth a damn." 

I said: "I reckon two pair of jacks are good," so the 
eventful game ended. I was ahead about $300. 

Some way or another they all got on to my identity and 
they all treated me with a good deal of respect at the races 
the next day. 

I went west and stopped at Eound Rock in Williamson 
county to see my old school master, J. C. Landrum. I had 
been his pupil in the '60s at Sumpter. After this I conclud- 



28 mn I.IFK OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

ed to go north from there as I had relatives in Navarro and 
Limestone counties. I naturally wanted to see them, even if 
I had to take risks in doing so. I still cherished the hope 
that the day would come when I could stand my trial and 
come clear. My father always told me that when the Demo- 
crats regained power I could get a fair trial, hut I could never 
expect that under carpet-hag rule. Of course I had long ago 
concluded not to surrender for the present and whenever 
force was unlawfully employed to make me do so I met it 
with force, or else got out of the way. 

In August, 1870, I went to Navarro and stayed at Pisga, 
where I gamhled a while. From there I went to Mount Calm, 
where my father was teaching school. There I peddled in 
hides and traded, making some money. 

Soon after, I got a letter from my brother Joe, who was 
going to school at Eound Eock to Professor Landrum. I 
also got one from the professor himself, both letters urging 
me to come up there and graduate with Joe. I went up there 
but only went to school for one day. The rewards that were 
offered for me made that country too dangerous a place for 
me to stop. I passed my diploma examination, however, 
satisfactorily, so Joe and I graduated together. My brother 
Joe then went to Mount Calm, helped my father to teach 
school and became a lawyer. He afterwards moved out to 
Commanche in 1872 and there lived until he met his death 
at the hands of a howling midnight mob of assassins in June, 
1874. I concluded to go to Shreveport, La., where I had 
some relatives, and on my way there I stopped at a town nam- 
ed Longview. There they arrested me for another party, on 
a charge of which I was innocent. The State police conclud- 
ed to take me to Marshall but I got out a writ of habeas 
corpus. I was, however, remanded to jail at Waco for some 
crime which I never committed. I was put in an old iron 



THK I.IFE OF JOHN WKSI.EY HARDIN. 29 

cell in the middle of the log jail and nobody was allowed to 
see me. There were three other prisoners in there, and to- 
gether we planned our escape. We were to wait until the 
food was brought in for supper and then we were to make 
our break. It was very cold weather when they first put me 
in jail and I had money with me to buy whisky and tobacco 
for us all. 

Thinking they would soon be released they had offered to 
sell me a pistol, a 45 Colt with four barrels loaded. I un- 
folded my plan to them by which we could all get out. I 
was to cover the jailor as he opened the door and kill him 
if he did not obey orders. We were then all to rush out and 
stand the crowd off until dark would help us to easily get 
away. 

They weakened, however, and so I bought the pistol for 
$10 in gold and a $25 overcoat. I had no idea when 
they were going to take me off, nor could I find out in any 
way. I tried to get them to go after my horse at Longview, 
but they would not do that. 

One cold night they called for me and I knew what was up, 
and you bet I was ready for them. I found out that I was 
going because the negro cook only brought up three supper 
plates. When the prisoners complained that there were only 
three plates and four of us she said that "one of us was 
going to leave tonight." I prepared myself for an emer- 
gency. I had a very heavy fur coat, a 
medium sack coat, two undershirts and two 
^vhite shirts. I hid the pistol, tied with a good stout 
cord, under my left arm and over it my top shirt. I put on 
the rest of my clothes to see how it looked. It looked 
all right, so I took off my coat and vest and went to bed. 

When they came to wake me up I pretended to be awaken- 
ed out of a sound sleep and to be very much surprifled. They 



30 THE I.IPE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

told me to get up and put on my clothes, that they were 
going to start for Waco with me. They told me I was 
wanted up there for killing Huffman in a barher shop. I 
appeared very much frightened and asked if there was any 
danger of a mob. Both Capt. Stokes and the jailer assured 
me that there was none. I then put on my vest and socks, 
putting a bottle of pickles in my overcoat pocket on the 
left side so as to make me look bulky. They searched me, 
but did not find any pistol. It was very cold and snow 
lay on the ground. They lead up a little black pony with a 
blanket thrown over him for me to ride 225 miles to Waco. 
I asked where my own horse and saddle was and they told me 
at Long view. I tried to buy a saddle from the jailor, bat 
he would not sell me one. I at last got another blanket 
and mounted my pony, my guard tying me on hard and fast. 
So we started out of Marshall, they leading my horse. When 
daylight came they untied my legs and allowed me to guide 
the 111 tie black pony. If you had met our party that day 
you would have seen a small white man about 45 years old, 
who was a captain of police named Stokes, a middle weight 
dark looking man, one-fourth negro, one-fourth Mexican and 
one-half white. The former riding a large bay horse, the 
latter a fine sorrel mare and leading a small black pony with 
a boy 17 years old tied thereon and shivering with cold. 
They tried to frighten me every way they could. Stokes 
said they were going to shoot me if I tried to run off, and 
said that Jim Smolly would kill me any moment he told him 
to do so. I, of course, talked very humbly, was full of moral- 
ity ai)d religion and was strictly down on lawlessness of all 
kinds. I tried to convince them that I was not an outlaw 
and did not wish to escape anywhere. When we got to the 
Sabine river it was booming and we had to swim. They 
tied me on again and put a rope around my pony's neck. 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 3I 

Stokes leading, me next and SmoUy bringing up the rear. 
The little black pony could swim like a duck and with the 
exception of getting thoroughly wet and cold, we got over 
all right. 

We went on two miles out from the river and stopped for 
the night. Jim went to get some wood and fodder for our 
horses, while Capt. Stokes and myself started a fire and struck 
camp. We went to a house about 100 yards off and got an 
axe. We came back and he told me to cut some pine from 
an old pine tree. I assented, but made a complete failure 
with the axe as I was afraid my pistol might show. Jim 
soon got back, however, and we made a big fire, fed the 
horses, got supper, laid down and slept till morning, when we 
again started on our road to Waco. 

When we reached the Trinity we found it out of its banks 
and dangerous to cross. We got the ferryman to ferry us 
over the main river, but when we began to cross the bottoms 
and the sloughs they tied me on the black pony again and 
kept me tied until we reached dry land. We went forward 
again and traveled until night, when we stopped and camped. 
Capt. Stokes went to get some corn and fodder for our horses. 
While he was gone Jim SmoUy cursed me, as was his habit, 
and threatened to shoot me, pointing his pistol at me to 
scare me. Then he sat down on a stump near our horses, 
which were hitched to the body of the tree. I pretended to 
be crpng and got behind the little black pony. I put my 
head down on his ba^k and meanwhile I untied the string 
that held my pistol. I kept one eye on him to see if he was 
watching me. When I got the pistol ready I rushed around 
on Jim and said: "Throw up your hands.'^ He commenced 
to draw his pistol, when I fired and Jim Smolly fell dead, 
killed because he did not have sense enough to throw up bis 
hands at the point of a pistol. I rode Jim Smolly's sorrel 



32 THK I<IFE OP JOHN WESI<EY HARDIN. 

mare and rode to Mount Calm that night to my father's. 
Father gave me another horse and sent the sorrel mare back. 
This was in January, 1871. 

I left my father's soon, bound for Mexico. I was going 
by way of San Antonio, but was arrested between Belton 
and Waco by men calling themselves police. They said they 
were going to take me to Austin, but night coming on, we 
stopped about ten miles from Belton. They agreed that 
one Smith should stand first guard, a man named Jones, 
second, and one Davis the last watch. They had a good deal 
of whisky with them and they all got about half drunk. I 
had concluded to escape on the first opportunity, so when 
we laid down I noticed where they put their shooting irons. 
I did not intend to sleep, but watched for a chance to liber- 
ate myself from unlawful arrest. 

Jones soon dropped off to sleep and Davis soon followed; 
Smith sat up to guard me, but he forgot he was on duty or 
else was unconscious of the danger that threatened him and 
his companions. He began to nod, but once in a while he 
would roll his eyes around on me. Pretty soon he put his 
hand up to his head and his elbow on his knee and began to 
snore. I picked up Davis' shot gun and Jones' six-shooter. 
I fired at Smith's head and then turned the other barrel 
on Jones at once. As Davis began to arise and inquire what 
was the matter I began to work on him with the six-shooter. 
He begged and hollered, but I kept on shooting until I was 
satisfied he was dead. 

Thus I got back my liberty and my pistols. I took an 
oath right there never to surrender at the muzzle of a gun. 
I never have done so, either, although I have been forced 
through main strength to give up several times since. 

I went back by way of Marlin, in Falls county to tell 
them all good bye once more. I told my father what I had 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 33 

done and how those tliree men had arrested me while 1 
was asleep. He said: 

"Son, never tell tliis to mortal man. I don't helieve you, 
but go to Mexico, and go at once. I will go part of the 
way with you." 

I slept in the cellar that night and stayed in an old oat- 
house the next day. I started the next night and we went 
through Waco. This was about the 12th of January, 1871. 
My father went on with me as far as Belton and there we 
parted. I went on through Georgetown, through Austin, 
and thence through Lockhart to Gonzales. I had some rela- 
tives in the latter town and I concluded to stop over and see 
them. 

These were the Clements; Jim, Manning, Joe, Gip, Mary 
Jane and Minerva. The girls were both married, the eldest 
to Jim Denson, the youngest to Ferd Brown. They lived 
almost directly on my way from Gonzales to Hellena, an old 
and honored citizen showed me the way to my relatives' home. 
My guide's name was Jim Cone. I told my relatives I was 
in trouble and on my way to Mexico. They told me I could 
go to Kansas with cattle and make some money and at the 
same time be free from arrest. I therefore concluded to 
give up my Mexican trip and went to work helping them 
gather cattle. We gathered mostly for Jake Johnson and 
Columbus Carol, who were then putting up herds for Kansas. 

I thus soon got acquainted with the country on the 
Sandies, on Elm and Eocky and on the Guadalupe. 

I had not been there long before the boys took me to a 
Mexican camp where they were dealing monte. I soon 
learned the rudiments of the game and began to bet with 
the rest. Finally I turned a card down and tapped the game. 
My card came and I said: "Pay the queen." The dealer 
refused. I struck him over the head with my pistol as he 



34 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

was drawing a knife, shot another as he also was drawing 
a knife. Well, this broke up the monte game and the total 
catualities w^ere a Mexican with his arm broken, another shot 
through the lungs and another with a very sore head. "We 
all went back to camp and laughed about the matter, but 
the game broke up for good and the Mexican camp abandon- 
ed. The best people of the vicinity said I did a good thing. 
This was in February, 1871. 

When we were gathering cattle for the trail I was in charge 
of the herd with strict orders to let no one go into the herd. 
A negro named Bob King came to the herd, rode in and 
commenced to cut out cattle without permission. I rode 
up and asked him by whose permission he was cutting cattle 
in that herd. He said he did not have to have permission 
and asked who was the boss. I said: 

"I am the man." 

''Well," said he, "I have come to cut this herd." 

'1 told him to keep out of it; that Clements would be here 
directly." He rode right into that herd and cut out a big beef 
steer. So I rode up to him and struck him over the head with 
my pistol and told him to get out of my herd. Although 
he had a six-shooter, he did not do anything, but begged 
my pardon. 

About the last of February we got all our cattle branded 
and started for Abilene, Kansas about the 1st of March. 
Jim Clements and I were to take these 1200 head of cattle 
up to Abilene and Manning, Gip and Joe Clements were to 
follow with a herd belonging to Doc Burnett. Jim and I 
were getting $150 per month. 

Nothing of importance happened until we got to William- | 
son county, where all the hands caught the measles except 
Jim and myself. We camped about two miles south of 
Corn Hill and there we rested up and recruited. I spent 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WKSI.EY HARDIN. 35 

the time doctoring my sick companions, cooking and brand- 
ing cattle. 

About the fourth day we were there near Barnett Young's 
(a relative of mine) a big white steer of the neighborhood 
gave me considerable trouble. I could not keep him out of 
the herd, so I pulled my 45 and shot him, aiming to shoot him 
in the nose, but instead hit him in the eye. That ox gave 
me no more trouble, but his owner gave me no end of trou- 
ble in the courts. I think that ox cost me about $200, 

After resting there about ten days all the hands recovered 
from the measles and the cattle and horses having improved 
so much in flesh we again started north. 

After several weeks of travel we crossed Eed River at a 
point called Red River Station, or Bluff, north of Montague 
county. We were now in the Indian country and two white 
men had been killed by Indians about two weeks before we 
arrived at the town. Of course all the talk was Indians and 
everybody dreaded them. We were now on what is called 
the Chisom trail and game of all kinds abounded; buffalo, 
antelope and other mid animals too numerous to mention. 
There were a great many cattle driven that year from Texas. 
The day we crossed Red River about fifteen herds had cross- 
ed and of course we intended to keep close together going 
through the Nation for our mutual protection. The trail was 
thus one line of cattle and you were never out of sight of a 
herd. I was just about as much afraid of an Indian as I was 
of a coon. In fact, I was anxious to meet some on the war 
path. 

There were lots of wolves in that country and I never 
heard anything like their howling. We killed a beef one 
night and they made the night hideous. I wanted to capture 
one, and in the early morning saddled my horse to see if I 
could not rope or Mil one. I struck out from camp and 



36 THB I«IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

saw a big loafer about 200 yards from camp. He was about 
200 yards away, but I turned Roan loose and pulling my pis- 
tol I commenced shooting. My very first shot hit him in 
his hip. I ran on to him and roped him. I pulled 
him to the camp, but the boys said that no wolf 
could enter camp and shot my rope in two. Mr. Wolf, how- 
ever, ran the gauntlet and escaped. The whole outfit caught 
the wolf fever, which resulted in tired men and crippled 
horses. I also killed some antelope, running on them and 
shooting them from the saddle. 

One morning on the South Canadian river I went out tur- 
key hunting and killed as fine a gobbler as I ever saw. I 
went over to where he fell, picked him up and started for 
my pony. It was just about daylight, and when I got close 
to my pony I saw he was snorting and uneasy. I looked in 
the direction that he seemed to be afraid of and about twen- 
ty yards off I saw an Indian in the very act of letting fly an 
arrow at me, and quick as thought, I drew my pistol and fired 
at him. The ball hit him squarely in the forehead and he 
fell dead without a groan. I got away "from there with my 
turkey as quickly as I could, went to camp and we all went to 
see a dead Indian. The boys wanted to take his bow and 
arrows as trophies, but I objected. We got a spade and an 
axe and dug a grave and buried the Indian with his bows 
and arrows, covering the grave with leaves to hide the spot 
from other Indians. 

These Indians had established a custom of taxing every 
herd that went through the Nation 10 cents per head. Sev- 
eral other herds joined with us in refusing to pay this, and 
we never did, though many times it looked like war. 

When we were crossing into Kansas, somewhere near Bluft' 
Creek, we were attacked by a band of Osage Indians who 
would ride into the herd and cut out little bunches of cat- 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 37 

tie, sometimes as many as fifteen or twenty head at one time. 
It was straight-out robbery and I told the hands to shoot the 
first Osage that cut another cow. 

One morning these Indians came to our camp while I was 
away and scared the cook and hands almost to death. They 
took off everything they wanted to, including a fancy silver 
bridle of mine. I got back to camp about 10 a. m. and 
when I found out what had happened you bet I was hot. In 
a little while about twenty bucks came to the herd, rode in 
and comenced to cut out cattle. I rode up to where they 
were and saw a big Indian using my fancy silver bridle. I 
asked him how much he would take for it and offered him 
$5. He grunted an assent and gave me the bridle. When 
I got it I told him that was my bridle and some one had 
stolen it from camp that morning. He frowned and grunted 
and started to get the bridle back, and trying to pull it off 
my horse. I "jabbed'^ him with my pistol and when this 
would not stop him I struck him over the head with it. He 
fell back and yelled to his compaions. This put the devil in 
them. They came up in a body and demanded cattle again. 
I told him "no," as I had done before. An Indian rode 
into the herd and cut out a big beef steer. I told him to 
get out of the herd and pulled my pistol to emphasize my re- 
marks. He was armed and drew his, saying that if I did not 
let him cut the beef out he would kill the animal. I told 
him that if he killed the animal I would kill him. Well, 
he killed the beef and I killed him. The other Indians 
promptly vanished. If they hadn't there would have been 
more dead Indians around that herd. The beef he had 
killed lay dead on the trail, so I mounted him by tying the 
dead Indian on his back and drove on. 

When we had crossed into Kansas we felt better and safer. 
On reaching a place called Cow House, about twenty mileg 



38 THE LIFE OP JOHN WESI,KY HARDIN. 

on this Bide of Wichita, a party of men interested in changing 
the trail from Wichita came out to the herd and induced 
us to go to the left of Wichita and cross the river about 
twelve miles above. They wished us to open this trail, as 
they were interested in building up a new town on the north 
bank of the Arkansas river. We followed a plough furrow 
on this new trail and these men furnished a guide. When 
we had crossed the river a delegation from the new town 
came out to meet us and invite all those that could leave the 
cattle to enjoy the hospitalities of the new town. 

About sixty cow boys went to that town and it is needless 
to say filled up on wine, whisky, etc., some getting rather full. 
We all came back to the herd in a little while and started oat 
again for Abilene. 

We were now on the Newton prairie and my herd was right 
in front of a herd driven by Mexicans. This Mexican herd 
kept crowding us so closely that at last it took two or three 
hands to keep the Mexican cattle from getting into my herd. 
The boss Mexican got mad at me for holding, as he said, his 
cattle back. I told him to turn to the outside of the trail, 
as he did not have to follow me. This made him all the 
madder. He fell back from the front of his herd and quit 
leading the cattle. The result of this was that no one being 
in front of them they rushed right into my herd, so I turn- 
ed them off to the left. The boss Mexican rode back up to 
where I was and cursed me in Mexican. He said he would 
kill me with a sharp shooter as quick as he could get it from 
the wagon. In about five minutes I saw him coming back 
with a gun. He rode up to within about 100 yards of me, 
got down off his horse, took deliberate aim at me and fired. 
The ball grazed my head, going through my hat and knock- 
ing it off. He tried to shoot again, but something got 
wrong with his gun and he changed it to his left hand and 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 39 

pulled his pistol with his right. He began to advance on 
me, shooting at the same time. He called up his crowd of 
six or seven Mexicans. In the meanwhile Jim Clements, 
hearing that I was in a row, had come to my assistance. I 
was riding a fiery gray horse and the pistol I had was an old 
cap and ball, which I had worn out shooting on the trail. 
There was so much play between the cylinder and the barrel 
that it would not burst a cap or fire unless I held the cylinder 
with one hand and pulled the trigger with the other. I 
made several unsuccessful attempts to shoot the advancing 
Mexican from my horse but failed. I then got down and 
tried to shoot and hold my horse, but failed in that, too. 
Jim Clements shouted at me to "turn that horse loose and 
hold the cylinder." I did so and fired at the Mexican, who 
was now only ten paces from me. I hit him in the thigh 
and stunned him a little. I tried to fire again, but snapped. 
The Mexican had evidently fired his last load so we both 
rushed together in a hand to hand fight. The other Mexi- 
cans had by this time come close up and were trying to shoot 
me every chance they got. Jim Clements, seeing I had no 
show to win, rushed between me and the other Mexicans and 
told them not to shoot, but to separate us as we were both 
drunk and did not know what we were doing. Another Mex- 
ican who had not been there at the beginning of the fight 
then rode up and fired two shots at me, but missed. We 
covered him with our pistols and he stopped. It was then 
agreed to stop the fight for a time, so the Mexicans went back 
to their herd. We were not fixed for that fight but wanted 
to be for the coining one. I had only an old worn-out cap 
and ball pistol and Jim Clements could not fight because 
his pistol was not loaded. This was the real reason we mcide 
a truce for the time. Jim and I went straight to camp and 
loaded two of the best pistols there. While we were 




Q 

a 

o 

W 

H 

w 



t^E UFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 4X 

doing this a message came from the Mexicans that time was 
up and they were coming. We of course sent the messenger 
back and told the Mexicans to keep off our herd and not to 
come around; that we did not want any more trouble. 

Seven of them gathered on the west side of the herd and 
seemed to talk matters over. Presently the boss, Hosea, my 
old foe, with three men, came around to the east side where 
we were. I had changed horses, so I rode to meet him. He 
fired at me when about seventy-five yards away, but missed 
me . I concluded to charge him and turn my horse loose 
at him, firing as I rode. The first ball did the work. I shot 
him through the heart and he fell over the horn of his sad- 
dle, pistol in hand and one in the scabbard, the blood pour- 
ing from his mouth. In an instant I had his horse by the 
leins and Jim Clements had relieved him of his pistols and 
Hosea fell dead to the ground. The other Mexicans kept 
shooting at us, but did not charge. They were in two parties, 
one about seventy-five yards to the south, the other about 
150 yards to the west. We charged the first party and held 
our fire until we got close to them. They never weakened, 
but kept shooting at us all the time. When we got right 
on them and opened up they turned their horses, but we 
were in the middle of them, dosing them with lead. They 
wheeled and made a brave stand. We were too quick for 
them, however, in every way and they could not go our gait. 
A few more bullets quickly and rightly placed silenced the 
party forever. The other party was now advancing on us 
and shooting as they came. We, therefore, determined to 
stampede the herd, which we did in short order by shooting 
a steer in the nose. This seemed to demoralize them for a 
while and they all broke to the cattle except one, who stood 
still and continued to use his pistol. We cross-fired on him 
and I ended his existence by putting a ball through his 



42 THE LIFR OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

temples. We then took after the rest, who now appeared to 
be hunting protection from other herders. We caught up 
with two of them and Jim Clements covered and held them 
while I rounded in two more. These latter two said they 
had nothing to do with the fight and that their companions 
must have been drunk. We let these two go to the cattle, 
A crowd of cow men from all around had now gathered. I 
suppose there were twenty-five of them around the two Mex- 
icans we had first rounded up. We thus had good interpret- 
ers and once we thought the matter was settled with them, 
when suddenly the Mexicans, believing they *^ad the drop,'' 
pulled their pistole and both fired point blank at me. I 
don't know how they missed me. In an instant I fired first 
at one, then at the other. The first I shot through the 
heart and he dropped dead. The second I shot through the 
lungs and Jim shot him too. He fell off his horse and I was 
going to shoot him again when he begged and held up both 
hands. I could not shoot a man, not even a treacherous 
Mexican, begging and down. Besides, I knew he would die 
anyway. In comparing notes after the fight we agreed that 
I had killed five out of the six dead Mexicans. 

Nothing of interest happened until we reached North 
Cottonwood, where we went into camp to deliver our cattle. 
We were now about 35' miles from Abilene, Kansas, and it 
was about the 1st of June that we all got word to come into 
Abilene, draw our pay and be discharged. 

I have seen many fast towns, but I think Abilene beat 
them all. The town was filled with sporting men and wo- 
men, gamblers, cowboys, desperadoes and the like. It was 
well supplied with bar rooms, hotels, barber shops and 
gambling houses, and everything w^as open. 

Before I got to Abilene I had heard much talk of Wild Bill, 
who was then marshal of Abilene. He had a reputation as a 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 43 

killer. I knew Ben Thompson and Phil Coe were there and 
had met both these men in Texas. Besides these, I learned 
that there were many other Texans there and so, although 
there was a reward offered for me, I concluded to stay some 
time there as I knew that Carol and Johnson, the owners of 
my herd, "squared" me with the officials. When we went to 
town and settled up, Jim Clements insisted on going home, 
although they offered him $140 per month to stay. I con- 
tinued in their employ to look after their stray cattle at $150 
per month. Thus we settled our business and proceeded to 
take in the town. 

Columbus Carol got into a fuss with a policeman that 
night at a notorious resort. Carson was the policeman's 
name, and he drew a pistol on Carol. I was present and 
drew mine on Carson, making him leave the place. I told 
him not to turn his head until he got to the corner of the 
next street and to go and get "Wild Bill," his chief, and 
come back and we would treat him likewise. But "they 
never came back." 

Next morning Carol and myself met Carson and Wild 
Bill on the streets, but nothing happened. 

Jim Clements took the train and went back to Texas. Phil 
Coe and Ben Thompson at that time were running the Bull's 
Head saloon and gambling hall. They had a big bull paint- 
ed outside the saloon as a sign and the city council objected 
to this for some special reason. Wild Bill, the marshal, notified 
Ben Thompson and Phil Coe to take the sign down or change 
it somewhat. Phil Coe thought the ordinance all right, but 
it made Thompson mad. Wild Bill, however, sent up some 
painters and materially altered the offending bovine. 

For a long time everybody expected trouble between 
Thompson and Wild Bill and I soon found out that they 
were deadly enemies. Thompson tried to prejudice me every 



44 THS I.IPE OF JOHN WESIyEY HARDIN. 

way he could against Bill, and told me how Bill, being a 
Yankee, always picked out Southern men to kill, and especial- 
ly Texans. I told him "I am not doing anybody's fighting 
just now except my own, but I know how to stick to a friend. 
If Bill needs killing why don't you kill him yourself?" 

He said: "I would rather get someone else to do it." 

I told him then that he had struck the wrong man. I 
had not yet met Bill Heycox, but really wished for a chance 
to have a set-to with him just to try his pluck. 

One night in a wine room he was drinking with some 
friends of mine when he remarked that he would like to 
have an introduction to me. George Johnson introduced us 
and we had several glasses of wine together. He asked me 
all about the fight on the Newton prairie and showed me a 
proclamation from Texas offereing a reward for my arrest. 
He said: 

"Young man, I am favorably impressed with you, but 
don't let Ben Thompson influence you; you are in enough 
trouble now and if I can do you a favor I will do it." 

I was charmed with his liberal views, and told him so. We 
parted friends. 

I spent most of my time in Abilene in the saloons and 
gambling houses, playing poker, faro and seven-up. One day 
1 was rolling ten pins and my best horse was hitched outside 
in front of the saloon. I had two six-shoters on and of course 
I knew the saloon people would raise a row if I did not pull 
them off. Several Texans were there rolling ten pins and 
drinking. I suppose we were pretty noisy. Wild Bill came 
in and said we were making too much noise and told me to 
pull off my pistols until I got ready to go out of town. £ 
told him I was ready to go now, but did not propose to put 
up my pistols, go or no go. He went out and I followed 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 45 

him. I started up the street when some one behind me 
shouted out: 

"Set up. All down but nine.'' 

Wild Bill whirled around and met me. He said: 

"What are you howling about and what are you doing 
with those pistols on." 

I said: "I am just taking in the town." 

He pulled his pistol and said: "Take those pistols off. 
I arrest you." 

I said all right and pulled them out of the scabbard, but 
while he was reaching for them I reversed them and whirled 
them over on him with the muzzles in his face, springing 
back at the same time. I told him to put his pistol up, 
which he did. I cursed him for a long haired scoundrel that 
would shoot a boy with his back to him (as I had been told he 
intended to do me). He said, "Little Arkansaw, you have 
been wrongly informed." 

By this time a big crowd had gathered with pistols and 
arms. They kept urging me to kill him. Down the street 
a squad of policemen were coming, but Wild Bill motioned 
them to go back and at the same time asked me not to let 
the mob shoot him. 

I shouted: "This is my fight and I'll kill the first man 
that fires a gun." 

Bill said: "You are the gamest and quickest boy I ever 
saw. Let us compromise this matter and I will be your 
friend. Let us go in here and take a drink, as I want to 
talk to you and give you some advice." 

At first I thought he might be trying to get the drop on 

me, but he finally convinced me of his good intentions and 

we went in and took a drink. We went into a private room 

and I had a long talk with him and we came out friends. 

I had been drinking pretty freely that day and towards 



46 THK I.IFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. / 

night went into a restaurant to get something to eat. A n/an 
named Pain was with me, a Texan who had just come up 
the trail. While we were in the restaurant several drunken 
men came in and began to curse Texans. I said to the near- 
est one: 

"I'm a Texan." 

He began to curse me and threatened tc slap me over. 
To his surprise I pulled my pistol and he promptly pulled 
his. At the first fire he jumped behind my friend Pain^ 
who received the ball in his only arm. He fired one shot and 
ran, but I shot at him as he started, the ball hitting him in 
the mouth, knocking out several teeth and coming out be- 
hind his left ear. I rushed outside, pistol in hand and jump- 
ed over my late antagonist, who was lying in the doorway. 
I met a policeman on the sidewalk, but I threw my pistol 
in his face and told him to "hands up." He did it. 

I made my way to my horse and went north to Cottonwood, 
about thirty-five miles, to await results. While I was there 
a Mexican named Bideno shot and killed Billy Goran, a cow 
man who had come up the trail with me. He was bossing 
a herd then, holding it near by Abilene for the market. His 
murder by this Mexican was a most foul and treacherous one, 
and although squad after squad tried to arrest this Mexican, 
they never succeeded in either killing or arresting him. 

Many prominent cow men came to me and urged me to 
follow the murderer. I consented if they would go to Ab- 
ilene and get a warrant for him. They did so and I 
was appointed a deputy sheriff and was g^ven letters of in- 
troduction to cattle men whom I should meet. About sun- 
rise on the 27th of June, 1871, I left the North Cottonwood 
with Jim Kodgers to follow Bideno. Of course, we proposed 
to change horses whenever we wanted to. This was easy to 
do, as there were many horses around the herds and we knew 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 47 

they would let us have them when we explained our purpose. 
We hoped to catch up with him hef ore he got to the Nation, 
and specially hefore he got to Texas. Off we went in a lope 
and got to Newton, about 50 miles away, by 4 p. m. I had 
learned of a herd there bossed by a brother of the dead Billy 
Goran and I sent a messenger to him telling him (the mes- 
senger) not to spare horseflesh. Goran came and one An- 
derson with him. I told him of his brother's death and we 
were soon on the trail with fresh horses and four instead of 
two in our party. 

We had not as yet heard one word from Bideno. We ex- 
pected to reach Wichita that night. About twelve miles 
from Newton, just about dusk, we came upon a herd bossed 
by Ben McGuUoch, who was afterwards Assistant Superin- 
tendent of the Huntsville Penitentiary, while I was there. 
We changed horses again and took the trail, having as yet 
heard nothing of Bideno. We reached Wichita about 11 
o'clock that night, having travelled 100 miles since starting. 
We concluded to rest until morning and then go on the south 
side of the river and make inquiry. I knew there were sev- 
eral Mexican herds near the river which Bideno might have 
gone to for a change of horses. We went next morning to 
these herds, going from one to the other, hunting for infor- 
mation. Finally we struck a Mexican who said that just 
such a man had stayed at his camp about 10 o'clock last night 
and had traded horses with one of his men early in the morn- 
ing. He said the horse he had traded for was the best in 
camp. We were convinced that this must have been Bideno, 
so changing horses and flushed with hope we hit the trail 
tgain about 7 a. m. in a long lope. 

We saw a herder about 8 o'clock who told us that two 
nours before he had seen a Mexican wearing a broad brimmed 
hat and going south in a lope, keeping about 200 yards from 



48 THK LIFE OF JOHN WESIyEY HARDIN. / 

the trail. We were now satisfied we were on the right trgfck 
and pulled out again, expecting to change horses at Cow 
House creek, about fifteen miles further on. We met a man 
near Cow House who told us that he had seen a Mexican 
wearing a broad brimmed hat and going south in a lope. 
When we got to Cow House we changed our horses at once 
and found that Bideno had done likewise an hour before. 
It was now about 10 o'clock, and hoping to overtake him be- 
fore we got to Bluff creek, twenty-five miles off, on the line 
of- Arkansas and the Indian Territory, we pushed our fresh 
horses to a fast lope. We heard from him several times, 
but he was always in a lope and always off the road. 

After going about twenty miles we again changed horses, 
so that if we ran up on him our horses would be fresh. When 
we got to within two miles of Bluff creek the road forked. 
Anderson and I went through the city, while Eodgers and 
Coran took the other fork; all apreeing to meet in the Indian 
Nation on the other side of the creek. 

Anderson and I, before going far got direct information 
that Bideno had just unsaddled his horse and had gone up 
town inquiring for a restaurant. We fired off our pistols 
and by this means got Coran and Eodgers to hear us and 
come back. 

We soon got to Bluff, which was a town of about fifty 
houses. There were some bar rooms and restaurants in a 
line and we agreed to ride up like cow boys, hitch our horses 
and divide into two parties, each going into different places. 
Anderson and I went into a restaurant, but before we reach- 
ed it we had to go into a saloon. I called for the drinks and 
took in the situation. I asked if we could get dinner and if 
a Mexican herder was eating dinner back there. They said 
there was; so I told my partner to get out his gun and follow 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 4^ 

me. We stepped into the entrance and I recognized Bideno. 
With my pistol by my side I said: 

"Bideno, I am after you; surrender; I do not wish to hurt 
you and you shall not be hurt while you are in my hands.'' 

He was sitting at the table eating and shook his head and 
frowned. He then dropped his knife and fork and grabbed 
his pistol. As he did it I told him to throw up his hands. 
When he got his pistol out I fired at him across the table 
and he fell over a dead man, the ball hitting him squarely 
in the center of the forehead. 

Hearing the firing Coran and Eodgers rushed in also. 
Coran said: 

"I just want to shoot my brother's murderer one time. 
Is he dead?" 

I told him he was, but he wanted to shoot him anyway. 
I would not let him, but he took his hat as a trophy. 

In the meantime the waiter was jumping up and down, 
begging us not to kill him; that he was a friend of cowboys, 
rtc. I quieted him by telling him if he did not get out he 
might, perhaps, get shot accidently, and he promptly acted 
on my suggestion. 

We all went into the saloon and the bartender said: "Take 
what you want." We took some good whisky and he would 
not let us pay for it. 

Quite a crowd had collected by this time and they all 
wanted to know what the shooting was about. I got outside 
the saloon and told the crowd how this Mexican had mur- 
dered a prominent cow man on the 26th at North Cotton- 
wood; how we had followed him and demanded his surren- 
der; how he had refused to give up and had drawn his pistol, 
when I was forced to shoot him. I then introduced John 
Coran, the dead man's brother. They all commended our 
actions and I gave those people $20 to bury him. 



50 THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

We started back to Abilene, rejoicing over our good luck. 
We reached Wichita that night, which was about fifty miles 
away. As we had ridden about 150 miles in 36 hours we all 
rested that night in Wichita. 

There I told my companions my troubles in Abilene. We 
all agreed to go to Newton and thence to Abilene, where 
they were to stick to me against anything. 

I had heard that Wild Bill had said that if I ever came 
back to Abilene he would kill me, so I had determined to go 
back there and if Bill tried to arrest me to kill him. 

Well, we stopped next at Newton and took in that town in 
good style. The policemen tried to hold us down, but they 
all resigned — I reckon. We certainly shut up that town. 

We went on to Abilene fearing nothing but God. While 
we were opening wine there, Wild Bill came in and asked me 
if I remmbered our talk in the "Apple Jack." 

''Well," said he, "you can not 'hurrah' me, and I am not 
going to have it." 

I told him, "I don't wish to hurrah you; but I have come 
to stay, regardless of you." 

"Well," he said, "you can stay and wear your guns, but 
those other fellows must pull them off. You are in no dan- 
ger here. I congratulate you on getting your Mexicau. 
Come in and invite your friends. We will open a bottle of 
wine." 

The boys had been watching us pretty closely and we all 
went into a room,they having their guns on. The marshal 
said nothing about their pistols then and after drinking a 
couple of bottles of wine left. 

I then told my companions that Bill was my friend and 
had asked me to see that they took their pistols off. They 
asked me why I did not pull mine off. I told them that 
the marshal had not demanded that of me, but I knew he 



THE I.IFK OF JOHN WESIvBY HARDIN. 5 1 

was our friend and would protect us all, and if he did not, 
1 would. Well they said that if Wild Bill was all right with 
me they would go home, which they did. 

Everybody in Abilene wanted to see the man that killed 
the murderer of Billy Goran and I received substantial com- 
pliments in the shape of $20, $50 and $100 bills. I did not 
want to take the money at first but I finally concluded there 
was nothing wrong about it, so took it as a proof of their 
friendship and gratitude for what I had done. I think I 
got about $400 in that way. Besides this, some wealthy cow 
men made up a purse and gave me $600, so altogether I got 
about $1000 for my work. I wish to say, however, that at 
the time I killed him I never expected to receive a cent, and 
only expected to have my expenses paid. 

It was about the 2nd of July that John Goran, Jim Eod- 
gers, Hugh Anderson and myself parted at Abilene. In a 
day or two Manning and Gip Glements came into Abilene 
and hunted me up. They found me with Jake Johnson and 
Frank Bell. To celebrate the meeting we opened several bot- 
tles of wine and then Manning said: 

"Wes, I want to see you privately.'' 

He, Gip and myself went up to my private room. Man- 
ning said: 

"Wes, I killed Joe and Dolph Shadden last night, but I 
was justified." 

"Well," said I, "I am glad you are satisfied, but I would 
stick to you all the same, even if you were not satisfied with 
your action." 

Manning said that he was bossing a herd for Doc Bur- 
nett in Gonzales county and was driving them here. He had 
selected his own hands and had hired these Shadden boys. 
Everything had gone on smoothly until they crossed Red 
River. Then the Shaddens commenced playing off and re- 



52 THE I<IFE OF JOHN WBSI.KY HARDIN. 

fused to go on night duty. When they were ordered to do 
so they became insulting and demanded their time and 
money. When told they could quit they wanted pay for all 
the time had they gone through to Abilene. This, Man- 
ning refused to do, but offered to pay them for the time they 
had actually worked. He told them it was either this or 
leave camp or do night duty and stay. They stayed and did 
night duty. All the time going through the Nation they 
were trying to make the other hands dissatisfied and told 
them that they intended to kill Manning before they got to 
Abilene, where they knew that Jim Clements and Wes Har- 
din were and they would take Manning's part of course. 

When they crossed the Canadian they gave up work entirely. 
Manning then offered them their full pay if they would leave. 
This they would not do, so he told Gip and the rest of the 
hands to watch them in word and actions. Manning actual- 
ly would stay away from camp at nights to avoid trouble, 
as he knew they were fixing to kill him there. They began 
to talk about his cowardice in sleeping away from camp at 
nights. When the herd crossed the Arkansas, Manning told 
a friend of his that had their confidence too, that he was not 
going to sleep out of camp any longer. 

The Shadden boys then said: "Well, if he comes back to 
sleep in camp at night we will kill him." 

Manning was told of their intention and told his brother 
Gip in their presence to make down his bed in a certain place, 
which he did. 

When they had gone. Manning told Gip what was up. 
Manning went on duty first that night himself and a hand 
came out to the herd and begged him not to go back to 
camp that night as these Shadden boys were sitting up 
waiting to kill him. Manning, however, took a friend and 
went to camp. He got there later than they expected and 



THB WFE OF JOHN WESI.E)Y HARDIN. 53 

called out in a loud voice: "Gip, get up and go on herd." 
Gip said, "all right." Joe Shadden jumped up with his pis- 
tol, hut Manning had on a slicker and also had his pistol in 
his hand. Manning fired first and put a hullet through Joe's 
head. Dolph, meanwhile, had fired at Manning, the hall 
going through his slicker and vest. Manning and Dolph 
Shadden then rushed together and scuffled, hut Manning 
managed to fire, shooting him through the hreast. He fell 
back on his bed, telling Manning he had killed him. Man- 
ning then turned the herd over to one of his hands, got his 
young brother Gip and came on here. When Manning told 
me this I said: "I have had a heap of trouble, but I stand 
square in Abilene. Wild Bill is my particular friend, and 
he is the one to help you here if papers come from Texas 
for you. Now, Manning, pull off your pistols until I see 
Bill and fix him." I made Gip do the same thing. I then 
saw Columbus Carol and Jake Johnson and it was agreed 
that Columbus should see Wild Bill and square Mannirg 
Clements. But, unfortunately, Columbus got drunk and 
squared nothing. That evening we all dropped into a 
gambling hall and began to buck at monte. Wild Bill came 
in and said: "Hello, little Arkansaw." I said: "Hello 
yourself; how would you like to be called Hello!" Bill 
bought $20 worth of checks and lost them. Then he bought 
$50 and then $100. Manning and I walked out and went over 
to the American House to get supper. I had finished eating, 
but Manning and Gip had not, when in walked Wild Bill and 
McDonald. I knew in an instant that they had come to 
arrest Manning. Bill gave me the wink. In a few min- 
utes he said: "How did you come out?" I told him about 
$25 ahead and asked him what he did. "I lost $250," said 
he. I told him I knew all the time he was playing the 
house's money when we had left. He laughed and said 



54 



THE UFK OF JOHN WKSLKY HARDIN 



yes, that those fellows knew better than to refuse him. By 
this time Manning had finished eating and Wild Bill said: 

'*Aic you through eating?" 

Manning told him "yes," and he said: "I suppose your 
name is Clements. I have a telegram" here to arrest Man- 
nig Clements; so consider yourself under arrest." Manning 




MANNING CLEMENTS. 



sa'd '*all right." I told Bill to let McDonald guard his 
prisoner a moment and told Bill I wanted to speak to him 
privately. I asked him if Columbus Carol had posted him.. 

"Ko," said he, "he is drunk. Why did you not post me 
yourself?" 

I then told him that he had once promised to do any 
favor I asked of him; that Manning was a cousin of mine and 
that he relied on me for safety. I then asked Wild Bill 
what I could expect from him. He told me he would turn 



THK life; of JOHN WEJSLRY HARDIN. 55 

Lim loose. I told him that was the only way of avoiding 
trouble. It was agreed that he should protect himself and 
his reputation as an officer by taking Manning to the Bull's 
Head saloon (Phil Coe's) and from thence to the lock-up. 
I asked him to tell me exactly what time he would turn 
him out and he said "12 o'clock.' I then called Maiming 
in and told him that Columbus had gotten drunk and had 
not posted Wild Bill and that in order to protect Wild Bill 
he must go to jail, but would be turned out at 12 m. 

Wild Bill and McDonald then took Manning to jail, while 
T went to Jess McCoy and bought a horse and saddle for 
Manring to ride. By this time they had landed hiyn in jail 
and Bill had sent for me to come up town. Jake Johnson 
was cutting up about the arrest and had a band of twenty-five 
Texans ready to liberate him. The police were also gather- 
ing at the jail. I took Jake off and told him that Columbus 
had gotten drunk and had not posted Bill. I explained it 
all to him and told him to bring his men up to Phil Coe's 
saloon and stay there. I went up to Phil Coe's and privately 
agreed to break open the jail at 12 o'clock if Wild Bill did 
not turn him loose at the appointed time. We went to work 
then and got fifty good men, stationing them in the back 
of the Bull's Head saloon, just across the street from the jail. 
I told Phil Coe that Wild Bill and I had agreed to meet at 
8 o'clock to make a run or take the town in, so to speak, 
and it might be possible that I would not see him again be- 
fore the play. I told Phil Coe that Wild Bill and I had set 
our watches together and so he and I also set ours together. 
1 agreed with Phil that he should get the key by 10 minutes to 
12 and if at that time he had not gotten it to send me word. 
I told him where Wild Bill and I would be exactly at that 
time. I told him if I did not get word from him by 6 min- 
utes to 12 I would kill Wild Bill, but whether he heard 



56 THE tiFie OF JOHN WESI^Kt HARfiHSf. 

Bhooting or not to break open the jail if he did not get the 
key. At 10 minutes to 8 by my watch I went to meet Wild 
Bill and we commenced to take in the gambling houses, etc. 
We began on monte and the banks we did not break, closed. 
Then we tried faro, and after a while they closed, too. Bill 
played the bluff racket and I bet with him, so where they paid 
him they had to pay me as well. I think we won about 
$1000 apiece that night. On going over town we learned 
that a policeman named Tom Carson had arrested some fe- 
male friends of ours and we determined to see them turned 
loose and to whip Tom Carson, although he was chief deputy 
of Wild Bill. We went to the calaboose and met Carson, 
but Bill did not say anything to him then, and called to the 
turnkey to bring the key. The prisoners got a hack and 
went home rejoicing. Tom Carson asked Wild Bill what he 
did it for and Bill answered his question by knocking him 
down and then jumping on him with both feet. It was a 
bad beating up, for Wild Bill was a man 6 feet high and 
weighed 200 pounds. He was light complexioned, blue eyed 
and his hair hung down his houlders in yellow curls. He 
was a brave, handsome fellow, but somewhat overbearing. 
He had fine sense and was a splendid judge of human nature. 
After this we again went up town and directly I asked Bill 
what time it was. He said, "15 minutes to 12," and handed 
me the key wrapped up in a piece of paper. I sent it at 
once to Phil Coe's at the Bull Head saloon and sent word 
where Manning could find me. Manning soon joined me; 
we had some wine and then went to our horses. 

We rode to Smoky river, where we got down and talked 
matters over. I had provided him with money and every- 
thing else necessary for the trip. It was agreed that we 
should meet again at Barnett Hardin's in Hill county, Texas, 
and that I should take care of his youngest brother, Gip, 



THE UFE OF JOHN WKSLEV HARDIN". 



57 



whom he left with me. We parted with this understanding 
and he went to Texas, while I went back to Abilene, reach- 
ing the town about 3 a. m. 




LAST BREAK IN ABILENE. 



58 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN, 

In those days my life was constantly in danger from secret 
or hired assassins, and I was always on the look out. 

On the 7th of July Gip and I had gone to our rooms in the 
American hotel to retire for the night. We soon got to bed, 
when presently I heard a man cautiously unlock my door and 
slip in with a big dirk in his hand. I halted him with a 
shot and he ran; I fired at him again and again and he fell 
dead with four bullets in his body. He had carried my 
pants with him and so I jumped back, slammed the door and 
cried out that I would shoot the first man that came in. I 
had given one of my pistols to Manning the night before, 
so the one I had was now empty. 

Now, I believed that if Wild Bill found me in a defenseless 
condition he would take no ^explanation, but would kill me 
to add to his reputation. So in my shirt and drawers I told 
Gip to follow me and went out on the portico. 

Just as I got there a hack drove up with Wild Bill and 
four policemen. I slipped back and waited until they had 
gotten well inside the hotel and then jumped off over the 
heck. Gip came after me. 

I sent Gip to a friend of mine to hide him. I hardly knew 
what to do. I was sleepy in the first place, and without arms 
or elothes. I knew all the bridges were guarded and the 
country was out after me, believing that I had killed a man 
in cold blood, instead of a dirty, low down, would-be assas- 
sin. I concluded to slip around and sleep in a hay stack 
which I knew of. I heard them come and look for me, one 
remarking that he believed I was in that hay stack and start- 
ed to set it on fire. I crawled away into the hay stack, know- 
ing they would not set it on fire because it was too close to a 
store. If they had done so you would have seen a lad 19 
years old in his night clothes crawling away from the officers 
and the fire in a hurry. I crawled to the edge of the stack 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HABDIN. 59 

after a wliile and saw two squads of police not far off. I 
crawled to a cornfield in roasting ear, keeping the hay stack 
between me and the police. Presently I saw a lone cow 
boy riding up within a few yards of me. I asked him if he 
knew me. He said he did. I put my hand to my side and 
told him to get down on the other side. He did it and I got 
up. The police saw this move and I turned my nag loose. 
The police were right after me and we had a hot race to the 
river, three miles off. I got there a quarter of a mile ahead 
and plunged my horse in. He swam like a duck and I got 
across in safety. They fired several shots at me from the 
other side and their bullets whistled unpleasantly close to 
me, so I soon put space between myself and pursuers. I went 
about a mile, when I looked back and saw three men coming 
at full speed, but I rode on and at that time few men could 
outride me. I weighed 155 pounds and was confident in 
myself, even though I was undressed and unarmed. I let 
that dun mare go a gait that I thought she could stand and 
that would put me in camp at least half an hour ahead of my 
pursuers. I looked back again and could see them coming 
about four miles off. It was about five miles to camp and 
down hill the most of the way, so I let her go and made it 
in about twenty minutes. 

I was a sorry spectacle when I got to that camp. I was 
bareheaded, unarmed, redfaced, and in my night clothes. I 
went to work at once to meet my pursuers and got two six- 
shooters and a Winchester. The cook had prepared dinner 
and as I had eaten nothing since the evening before, I cer- 
tainly relished it. The camp was right on the north bank 
of North Cottonwood and I dropped down under the bank 
while my pursuers rode up. Tom Carson and two others 
inquired of the cook where I was. He told them I had gone 
to the herd and asked them to get down and have dinner. 



6o THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

When they were eating I stepped up near them, but not near 
enough for any of them to grab me. I covered Tom Carson 
with my Winchester and told them, "All hands up or Til 
shoot." All their hands went up, and I told the cook to re- 
lieve those gentlemen of their arms and told them that any re- 
sistance on their part would mean certain and untimely death. 
The cook did his work well, and I told them to finish their 
dinner, while I sat on a dry goods box with my Winchester in 
m.y hands. 

When they were through I made Tom Carson and his two 
men pull off their clothes, pants and boots, and sent them all 
back in this condition to face a July sun for thirty-five miles 
on a bald prairie. 

I waited out on Cottonwood several days until Gip Clements 
came out. 

On the 11th of July, 1871, Gip and I left Cottonwood for 
Texas, well armed and equipped in every way. We went by 
Emporia and Parsons and thence into the Nation. 

One day we stopped for dinner with a trader who had a 
wagon drawn by a horse and a mule. He was a rough-look- 
ing fellow, heavy set, dark, and weighing about 180 pounds. 
He professed to be an expert shot and we commenced to 
shoot for a dollar a shot. In those days I was a crack shot, 
and I won several dollars. He then challenged me to shoot 
for $20. I did so and won easily. He then wanted to shoot 
for $50, which I again did and he again lost. He increased 
to $100, which I won. This made him wrathy and he want- 
ed to fight. I told him he couldn't whip me and he called 
me a liar, drawing his pistol. I cocked mine in his face and 
Gip interfered by catching the trader's pistol, which alone 
prevented me from shooting him. Gip then took it away 
from him and he commenced abusing me and said if Gip 
would give him back his pistol he would kill me. Of course 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 6 1 

he knew that Gip would not do this. He kept cursing me 
and told me he could carry weight and whip my sort. I said: 

"Old man, I don't want to kill you, but you have only 
yourself to blame if you make me do it." 

I guarded him while Gip saddled the horses. All this time 
he was trying to get to the wagon where his Winchester was 
and I had to warn the old fool repeatedly to keep back or I 
would surely kill him. When Gip got the horses saddled I 
made him throw down the trader's pistol and guard him 
until I had gotten off about 300 yards. Then Gip bade the 
Indian trader farewell and we rode off, laughing, but glad we 
did not have to kill him. 

Nothing of interest happened until we got to Barnett Har- 
din's on the 30th of July, in Hill county, Texas. There we 
met Manning Clements and after sta3dng about a week we 
struck out for Gonzales county, where the Clements lived. 
_ We arrived at Manning's house on the 7th of August, 1871. 
The Shadden brothers, whom Manning had killed, had a 
brother and a brother-in-law living near there and we ex- 
pected trouble, but soon after our arrival they concluded to 
move out. 

E. J. Davis was governor then and his State Police were 
composed of carpet baggers, scalawags from the North, with 
ignorant negroes frequently on the force. Instead of pro- 
tecting life, liberty and property they frequently destroyed 
it. We all knew that many members of this State Police 
outfit were members of some secret vigilant band, especially 
in DeWitt and Gonzales counties. We were all opposed to 
mob law and so soon became enemies. The consequence 
was that a lot of negro police made a raid on me without law- 
ful authority. They went from house to house looking for 
me and threatening to kill me, and frightening the women 
and children to death. 



62 THE I.IFK OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

They found me at a small grocery store in the southern 
portion of Gonzales county. I really did not know they were 
there until I heard some one say: 

"Throw up your hands or die!" 

I said "all right/' and turning around saw a hig hlack ne- 
gro with his pistol cocked and presented. I said: 

"Look out, you will let that pistol go off, and I don't want 
to he killed accidently." 

He said: "Give me those pistols." 

I said "all right/' and handed him the pistols, handle fore- 
most. One of the pistols turned a somerset in my hand aud 
went off. Down came the negro, with his pistol cocked, and 
as I looked outside I saw another negro on a white mule fir- 
ing into the house at me. I told him to hold up, hut he 
kept on, so I turned my Colts 45 on him and knocked him off 
his mule my first shot. I turned around then to see what 
had hecome of No. 1 and saw him sprawling on the floor 
with a huUet through his head, quivering in hlood. I walk- 
ed out of the back door to get my horse and when I got back 
to take in the situation the big negro on the wliite mule was 
making for the bottom at a 2:40 gait. I tried to head him 
off, but he dodged and ran into a lake. I afterwards learned 
that he stayed in there with his nose out of the water until 
I left. The negro I killed was named Green Paramoor and 
the one on the white mule was a blacksmith irom Gonzales 
named John Lackey — ^in fact they were both from that town. 

News of this of course spread like fire, and myself and 
friends declared openly against negro or Yankee mob rule 
and misrule in general. In the meantime the negroes of 
Gonzales and adjoining counties had begun to congregate at 
Gonzales and were threatening to come out to the Sandies 
and with torch and knife depopulate the entire country. We 
at once got together about twenty-five men good and true 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI^BY HARDIN. 63 

and sent these negroes word to come along, that we would 
not leave enough of them to tell the tale. They had actually 
started, but some old men from Gonzales talked to them and 
made them return to their homes. From that time on we 
had no negro police in Gonzales. This happened in Sep- 
tember, 1871. 

Soon after this I took a trip to see some relatives in Bren- 
ham, and nothing of interest happened until I returned. 

A posse of negroes from Austin came down after me and 
I was warned of their coming. I met them prepared and 
killed three of them. They returned sadder and wiser. This 
was in September, 1871. 

As my parents were still living in Limestone county at 
Mount Calm I concluded to go and see them. I went through 
Austin, through Georgetown, Belton and Waco, from thence 
to Mount Calm, where I found my parents well and glad to 
see me again. I stayed there until after Christmas and then 
went to Dallas. Returning to Mount Calm, I stayed there 
one night and went back south to Gonzales. 

I got back the night Gip Clements married Annie Termille 
and I enjoyed the supper and dance very much. My sweet- 
heart, who was soon to be my bride, Jane Bowen, was there. 

Nothing of importance happened until I married Jane 
Bowen, though we were expecting the police to come any 
time. They would have met with a warm reception in those 
times, when the marriage bells were ringing all around. 

About two months after I married I had some business at 
King's ranch and went by the way of Goliad and San Patrico 
to Corpus Christi. At the latter town I stayed several days 
and then went out to King's ranch (sometimes called San 
Gertrudas). On my way out there, when about forty-five 
miles from Corpus Christi, I stopped to get my dinner and 
pulled off my saddle to let my horse graze. I looked around 



64 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

and saw two Mexicans coming towards me. They stopped 
about seventy-five yards away, got down and began to make 
coffee. This was evidently done to throw me off my guard, 
but it did not have the ' desired effect. I just saddled up 
my horse again and rode on, hoping to lose them. After 1 
had gone about four miles I saw the same two Mexicans com- 
ing to meet me again. When they got about fifty yards away 
from me one got on one side of the road and the other on 
the other side to cross fire on me. I took them to be rob- 
bers, as they were. I spurred my horse out of the road and 
they immediately pulled their pistols and started out after 
me. I suddenly wheeled and fired quickly. I shot the one 
on my left off his horse and the one on the right soon quit 
the fight. Being in a strange country I put as much space 
between myself and the robbers as possible. I never did 
know whether I killed both Mexicans or not. 

I was riding a splendid horse and got to Gapt. King's ranch 
that night. I stayed there the next day, transacted my business 
and in company with Jim Cox I made my way to San Diego, 
stayed there over night and then with Cox went on to Bon- 
quetto and stayed there a day or two. 

There I got to thinking that I had one of the prettiest and 
sweetest girls in the country as my wife, who would soon 
be looldng for me for I had promised to be gone only twelxre 
days. The more I thought of her the more I wanted to see 
her. So one night about 10 o'clock I started from Ban- 
quetto for Gonzales county, 100 miles away. 

I got home at about 4 a. m., but forever ruined a good 
horse worth $250 in doing so. The sight of my wife recom- 
pensed me for the loss of old Bob. 

This was in May and I conceived the idea of going east 
with a bunch of horses. I commenced to gather them at 
once and in two weeks I was ready to go to Louisiana. I bid 



THE IvIFJB OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 65 

my angel wife good bye. It nearly broke my heart for she 
had implicit confidence in me and her hope and prayer was 
my safe return. This was about the 5th of June, 1872. 

I concluded to go ahead of the herd to Eastern Texas, 
where I had some relatives. My herd was in charge of J ess 
and John Harper, who had been raised in Sabine county. 
Their father was Hving at Hemphill and was then sheriff of 
Sabine, so we agreed to meet at Hemphill, or rather, I 
agreed to wait for them there. 

Nothing unusual happened on the trip except at Willis, 
where some fellows tried to arrest me for carrying a pistol, 
but they got the contents thereof instead. I stopped a week 
at Livingstone and stayed with my Uncle Barnett, Aunt An- 
ne and my cousins. We all had a splendid time and then 
I went to Hemphill about the last of June. 

I had a race horse at that time named "Joe," and he was 
hard to catch on a quarter of a mile. I soon matched a race 
with some parties from San Augustine in an adjoining coun- 
ty. I think the race was for $250 and we were to run 350 
yards. I took Billy Harper and went twenty-five miles north 
to their tracks, won the race easily and got the money with- 
out any trouble. 

It was now the 20th of July and expecting the horses 
soon, Billy Harper and I went back to Hemphill. I waited 
there for the horses and gambled, as much for past time as 
for money. 

On the 26th of July I got into a difficulty with Sonny 
Spites, one of E. J. Davis' infamous State Police. It hap- 
pened in this way: A man named O'Connor, returning from 
Louisiana was going back home to Austin and stayed one night 
near Hemphill. A State Policeman arrested him because 
he had on a pistol and brought him into Hemphill, where, 
on the policeman's bare statement the magistrate fined him 



66 THE WFK OF JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. 

$25 and costs, besides confiscating his pistol. I heard of the 
outrage and explained the case to the justice, who granted 
O'Connor a new trial and acquitted him. In the meantime 
the policeman had taken possession of O'Connor's horse and 
saddle and was already trying to sell them to pay the fine and 
costs, O'Connor being broke. I was in the front of the court 
house talking the matter over with O'Connor and some others 
when a small boy about 10 years old began abusing Spites for 
arresting O'Connor at his father's house. Spites came up 
and listened to him and finally told the boy if he did not 
shut up he would arrest him too. The boy ridiculed him 
and defied him to do it, telling him that no one but a coward 
would arrest a poor traveler. Spites told him if he did not 
shut up he would whip him. The boy told him he was not 
afraid, just to go ahead and whip and arrest him. Spites 
got up to slap the boy, when I told him to hold on, that if he 
was in earnest to slap a man. He told me he would arrest 
me for interfering with him in the discharge of his duty. I 
told him he could not arrest one side of me, and the boy 
laughed. Spites started to draw a pistol. I pulled a der- 
ringer with my left and my six-shooter with my right and 
instantly fired with my derringer. The dauntless policeman 
ran to the court house and asked the judge to protect him. 
] learned afterwards that Judge 0. M. Eoberts was the man 
appealed to. I would not shoot a fleeing man, not even a 
policeman, so I jumped on a horse and rode around to where 
my own was at Dr. Cooper's. When I got there Billy Harper 
was leading my horse "Joe" out of the stable and Mrs. 
Cooper was bringing my saddle bags. I saddled Joe as 
quickly as possible and got my saddle bags on. (Mrs. Cooper 
was Billy's sister.) She cried out: 

"Wes, yonder comes pa with some men; for God's sake 
don't shoot." 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WKSI^FY HARDIN. 67 

I told them good bye and to get out of the way. Billy was 
trying to let down the bars and the sheriff and posse were 
right on me. I knew the sheriff was my friend, so I would 
not fire on him. I put spurs to "Joe" and went over the 
bars. Just as we went over two balls struck Joe in the neck, 
but we soon distanced them and went to a friend's house 
about two miles from town. I awaited developments there 
and sent for Billy Harper. 

Billy came about dark and told me that Spites was not 
mortally wounded, only hit in the shoulder and scared to 
death. He said everybody approved of what I had done, and 
that Jess and John Harper had come with the horses. They 
were at Frank Lewis' with the herd, about seven miles from 
town, and were expecting me out tomorrow. This was about 
the 26th day of July, 1872.. 

On the 27th I went out to the herd and stayed there a few 
days. I sold my horses to the Harper Bros, and started back to 
Gonzales county, but expected to stop in Polk and Trinity 
counties on my way. Nothing unusual happened until I got 
within ten miles of Livingstone, in Polk county, where I stop- 
ped at a store and there being some gay fellows there, we 
soon made a race. The race was for $250, $100 being put 
up as a forfeit, and the distance being a quarter of a mile. 
The date of the race was the 30th of July. The men I had 
made the race with were named Hickman and I was told 
they intended to take the money whether they won or not. 
AVhen the time came for me to put up the other $150 with 
the stake holder I told him what I had heard. His name 
was Dick Hudson and I told him I knew him when we had 
been boys together in Polk county. He said he knew me 
well, so I told him there was my money, but I wanted the 
other parties to understand that no man or set of men could 
lake my money without killing me unless they won it; that 



68 THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HAEDIN. 

if these parties wanted a fight instead of a race they could 
not commence any too soon to suit me. After Hickman 
Bros, heard of this they altered their tone and wanted to 
draw down, but I would not draw. At 12 o'clock (the limit 
for putting up) I claimed and received the $350 without a 
murmer from the Hickmans. 

My uncle, Barnett Hardin, lived only ten miles from there, 
so I went to his place on the 30th of July and hunted and 
fished for a week. After this Barnett Jones, a cousin of 
mine, and I went up into Trinity county, where we had some 
relatives and friends, getting to Trinity City on the 7th of 
August. We went to John Gates' saloon and ten pin alley, 
where I comenced to roll. Everybody beat me for the drinks 
and after I had lost a round or two a man named Phil Sub- 
let and I matched a game for $50 in or out. We were to roll 
anything we wished, from a pony up. It was to be a ball 
game at $5 a ball. I beat him six straights and won $30 of 
the $50. He said: 

"I am going to take my stake down." 

I told him we had made the game for $50 and I reckoned 
he would have to have my consent first. 

He said: "No, by God." 

I told him that he could not get it unless the stake holder 
gave it to him after he had won it. He said I was a g — d — 
har and put his hand to his pistol. I slapped him in the 
face and shoved a bull dog pistol at his head. Friends inter- 
fered and we made peace. 

We then rolled another ball apiece and I beat him. Then 
I told him he could draw down the rest of his stake. Sublet 
thus having lost $35. 

We then went out into the front room where the bar room 
was to have something to drink at my expense. While we 
were drinking Sublet slipped off and I missed him pretty 



THE IvIFB OF JOHN WESIyEY HARDIN. 69 

soon. It flashed across my mind that he had gone off to get 
a gun, so I went behind the counter and got two six-shooters 
out of my saddle bags. I went to the front window, which 
opened to the south and was behind the counter. The 
saloon was a plank structure, 60x70 feet. It faced north and 
south and was about 20 feet wide. A front door from the 
south and front formed the entrance to the bar room. The bar 
counter was on the left as you went in. The bar was cut 
off from the alley by a partition with a door therein. There 
was a door that opened into the alley from the east about ten 
feet from the partition, and also a window opened on the 
south or front end of the saloon. I was at the window when 
John Gates, the proprietor, told me to go into the alley, that 
the fuss between Sublet and I was all fixed up. I reluctant- 
ly consented to go back into the bowling alley. When I got 
there I heard some one shouting out: 

"Clear the way, I will shoot anyone that interferes with 
me. Come out, you g — d — s — of a b — ." ' 

He was in the streets south of the front door and was on 
liis way round to the east door of the alley. I appeared at 
that door with my pistol and he fired one barrel of a shot 
gun at me. I thought I would kill him, but did not want 
to get into any new trouble so fired at him, not intending to 
hit him, and stepped back. As I did so a drunken man got 
up and caught me by the vest, saying that he and I could 
whip anybody. He had a big knife in his hand and I told 
him to turn me loose, but before he did it he pulled me into 
the middle or partition door. By this time Sublet had got- 
ten in line with the door and as we darkened it he fired the 
other barrel of his shot gun at me. I knew I was shot, so 
I instantly took after him with my six-shooter, but he threw 
down his gun and broke for his life. I ran him through the 
streets and into a dry goods store. A» we went through 1 he 



70 THK LIFK OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 

store I fired at him but my pistol snapped and I found I had 

my pistol with the broken cylinder spring. My man was 
still on the run and I was getting weak from loss of blood. 
I fired again as he went out the door and the ball passed 
through his shoulder. I was gettin mighty weak now, but 
staggered to the door as he ran, hoping to kill the man who 
I thought had killed me. He was about seventy-five yards 
away and I saw I could never kill him, so I turned to some 
friends who were near and told them: 

"I am either killed or shot. If all the gold in the wond 
belonged to me I would freely give it to kill him. I have 
one consolation, however, I made the coward run." 

By this time my cousin, Barnett Jones, had arrived and as 
they were holding me up I recognized him. I told him to take 
a belt I had which held about $2000 in gold; to get my saddle 
bags, which had about $250 in silver, and give it to my wife 
in Gonzales county. I told him to tell her that I honestly 
tried to avoid this trouble, but when I was shot I ran my foe 
and made him pull his freight for his life. 

Barnett, however, told me not to give up, that th6y were 
going to do all they could for me and that they would bring 
me to Dr. Carrington's ofiice. The doctor called in another 
doctor, who, after examining me, decided to take the balls 
out. Two buck shot had struck me a little to the left of the 
navel. They had passed through my right kidney and had 
lodged between my backbone and ribs. Two others had 
struck my belt buckle, which was a big silver one, and that 
was what saved me. The doctors asked me if I thought I 
could stand the operation without opiates. I told them yes, 
that if I died I wanted my head clear. They placed me on 
my face and went to work with knife and forceps. They 
soon had the two buck shot out of me. 

Dr. Carrington tlien told me that my wounds, ordinarily 



THE LIFK OF JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. 7 1 

speaking, were fatal, but if I would be submissive there was 
a chance for me. I told him I would take that chance and 
obey his orders. Everybody thought I would die. I told my 
friends to cut the wires so that they could not send any 
papers from Austin for me. They placed me in an hotel and 
gave me the best of treatment. 

About the 15th of August I was told that I had to move 
or be arrested. I had never gotten up out of bed, but the 
doctor told me if I was careful I could be moved, which my 
friends did, taking me to two miles east of Sulphur Springs. 
There the doctor visited me for several days, when it was 
again thought best to move me to Old Sumpter to Dr. Tea- 
garden's. His son Billy, with whom I had been raised, was 
now with me. We got a hack and struck out for Sumpter, 
about twenty miles away. We started one night and got 
there before day. I received good treatment there and got 
along well, although I could not yet stand up well. 

Everybody there tried to help me and everybody was my 
friend, but the infamous police were after me and there were 
several mischief makers meddling about me. My friends 
again thought best to move me out two miles to John Gates', 
where I did not stay long. I came back again to Dr. Tea- 
garden's. About the 27th of August I again had to leave 
the doctor's house, and that in a hurry, too. 

They brought my horse up to the back gate and got me on 
him. By this time I had so improved that I could walk from 
the house to the yard, but was very weak and sore and coald 
not straighten up. In company with Billy Teagarden and 
Charley we eluded a posse of police and went over into Ange- 
lina county, where we had an old friend by the name of 
Dave Harrel. We got there about the last of August, 1872. 
The Teagardens returned to Sumpter. 

After I had been at Harrel's for two days word came that 



72 TlIK LIFK OF JOHN WKSLKV HARDIN. 

there was a party of police coming to arrest me. I got a 
double barreled shot gun and resolved to sell my life dearly 
if they did come. 

On or about the 1st of September two men rode up to the 
house, armed with Winchesters, and came in. They asked 
Mrs. Harrel if I was there, but she told them I was not. They 
cursed her for a damned liar and told her I was in the back 
room, but she denied them admittance. 

I was in the back room all this time and heard all that was 
^oing on. I straightened myself up on my pallet and as they 
darkened the door I told them to hold up their hands; that 
they could not run over a woman and that I was going to 
protect that house. They turned around and left, saying 
they did not want to harm the woman, but were after John 
Wesley Hardin. They soon returned, but in the meantime 
I had sent for Dave Harrel, who was in the cotton patch 
near by and he was saddling my horse to go to Till Watson's 
with me, about ten miles away. 

The police by this time had opened the gate and were in 
the yard. Mrs. Harrel told them to get out of her yard and 
would not leave when we tried to get her to go to a neigh- 
bor's house. 

These policemen came on with their Winchesters in their 
hands. I crawled to the back door and threw my shot gun 
to my shoulder as quickly as possible and fired, first at one 
then at the other. In the meantime I had received a shot in 
my thigh, but Dave Harrel brought me my horse and helped 
me on him. We got to Till Watson's about dusk. 

I learned afterwards that a coroner's inquest was held over 
one of the policemen and that the verdict was "that he had 
met his death at the hands of an unknown party, from gun- 
shot wounds." 

I was now in a bad fix. I had a fresh wound which re- 



THK UFK OF JOHN WKSI.EY HARDIN. 73 

quired immediate medical attention and my old wounds were 
giving me trouble again. I knew a mob were after me now, 
so I sent Dave Harrel to liusk to tell the sheriff of Cherokee 
county, Dick Reagin, to come out and arrest me. 

I told him to tell the sheriff that there was a reward for me 
and I would surrender to liim rather than be made the victim 
of mob law. I told him to tell him to bring medical aid, but 
that for all this I wanted one-half the reward. 

He brought four men with him, but kept them in the 
dark and made them believe he would have trouble in ar- 
resting me. They came to Till Watson's about the 4th of 
September, 1872. They came into the house, the deputies 
remaining on the gallery. The sheriff came in and said: 

"My name is Dick Eeagan; I have come here to arrest you, 
as Dave Harrel told me you wished to surrender." 

I told him yes, but a fair understanding made long friends. 
I told him I did not want to be put in jail; I wanted half the 
reward; I wanted medical aid; I wanted protection from 
mob law; I wanted to go to Austin as quickly as possible and 
from there to Gonzales. 

He agreed to all this and said he would treat me right. He 
asked me where my arms were and I told him one of my pis- 
tols was in the scabbard and the other under my head. I 
reached for it, and as I was pulling it out to give it to him 
one of his men outside shot me on. the right knee. I first 
thought, on the impulse of the moment, that I would kill the 
sheriff, but it flashed across me at once that it was a mistake 
and that in him was my only protection. The sheriff and 
posse were all very sorry that this happened and each seem- 
ed to vie with each other in making me as comfortable as 
possible. They got a hack and put pillows and bed quilts in 
it trying to make my journey easy. 

When we got to Rusk they put me in a private house and 



74 I'HE I.IFK OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 

sent for a doctor. They then took me to the hotel, kept by 
Dick Reagan on the corner of the square. Thus I arrived at 
Rusk about the 7th of September, 1872, with four bullet 
holes in me. 

Many different and varied kinds of people came to see me, 
some of them expecting to see a man with horns on his head 
and were surprised when they saw me, saying, "He looks just 
like we'uns.^' They would ask me all kinds of questions; how 
many men I had killed; if I had ever killed a woman, etc. 
Dr. Jimson soon got there and cleared out the room. They 
would come there day after day, however; some for curiosity 
and some for charity. I did my best to be polite to all callers. 

Sheriff Reagan sent his son Dood to nurse me and he and 
I soon became chums. Mrs. Reagan was also very kind to me 
and seemed to never tire of fixing me dainty dishes to tempt 
a sick man^s appetite. 

I kept thinking of my wife in Gonzales, but never men- 
tioned her name. I would ask the doctor every day when I 
could be moved. I knew I was charged with several capital 
crimes in Gonzales, but believed I could come clear if I had 
a fair trial there. 

In putting down negro rule there I had made many friends 
and sympathizers and had made it a thing of the past for a 
negro to hold an office in that county. 

Dick Reagan told me that whenever the doctor said I could 
be moved he would take me to Austin. We started for Aus- 
tin on the 22nd of September, Deputy John Taylor going 
with the sherifT and I. On reaching Austin we stopped 
at an hotel and the next day they put me in 
the old jail down by the river. Barnhart Zimpelman was 
then sheriff there. Sheriff Reagan then went back to Rusk 
and I waited for him some time to come back with my horse 
"Joe" and $450 in gold for which I gave him an order on 



THE UFK OF JOHN WKSI.KY HARDIN. 75 

Till Watson. After waiting for his return several days, I 
concluded to see a lawyer, who got out a writ of habeas corpus 
and I was ordered to be carried to Gonzales. 

We had a code of laws of our own in that Austin jail, in 
which there were always about twenty-five jail birds. When- 
ever a new prisoner was brought in we would all cry "". ' 
fish," and kangaroo court proceedings at once comm 
It was rarely the victim escaped without a fine or "si 
We would shake the "fresh fish'^ by getting hold of th' 
ner of a blanket and tossing them nearly to the ceilin 
then letting them fall. 

While in that jail I got acquainted with Burns and Kimble, 
who were afterwards hung for the murder of a peddlar. 

Some friends in Austin, knowing I was wounded, frequent- 
ly sent me meals from the hotels and I would always divide 
up with my fellow prisoners. One of the prisoners, an over- 
bearing devil, one day said I was stingy about dividing up, 
and made a grab for some custard I was eating. I let drive 
at him with my boot, which was iron heeled, and sent him 
sprawling and bleeding to the floor. The jailor got mad 
about it and said he would put the man that did it in irons. 
I told him I was that man and explained the circumstances. 
He didn't iron me. 

In a day or two four State Policemen started with me to 
Gonzales, and when we got to Lockhart they tried to make 
me ride a mule, as my horse was played out. My wounds 
were still painful and I did not like the looks of that mu)e. 
So one of the guards said he would let me ride his horse and 
he would ride that mule. Then a regular circus commenced 
and the mule threw that policeman so high and hard that 
everybody made fun of him. He soon traded it ofi" for a 
horse. 

When we reached Gonzales thoy had mc php.cklod :rad 



76 THS I,IPE OF JOHN WESI^KY HARDIN. , 

chained to a horse, and the people there denounced such 
brutal treatment, sa3dng that I had done more for the peace 
and welfare of the country than any other man in it. 

Capt. Williams told the guards that they had just as well 
turn me loose as to leave me in Gonzales, but they put me in 
\>'^, where a blacksmith soon came and cut my irons off. 

'V. E. Jones was sheriff of Gonzales county then and told 
that my friends would soon be in to see me and to keep 
at and patient. 

ls well as I can recollect, on or about the 10th of October 
1872, 1 cut into open daylight with a big saw, cutting through 
the iron bars on the south side. The guards on duty posted 
me when to work, as the saw made a big fuss. I got through 
late in the evening and waited until dark to leave the jail. 

Manning Clements and Bud McFadden were there to see 
that I got off all right, and I rode Benny Anderson's iron 
gray horse home. 

(Here follows a diversion from the story, and Hardin goes 
into a description of the political campaign of 1894 in Gon- 
zales county. Feeling between Hardin and W. E. Jones 
ran high then, Jones being a candidate for sheriff. Hardin 
was supporting Coleman for sheriff against Jones, and 
brought up his escape from jail in 1872, when Jones was 
sheriff. He accused him (Jones) of knowing all about this 
cutting out and escape. This, as detailed above. Sheriff Jones 
strenuously and strongly denied. The manuscript quotes 
the letters from Jones and Hardin to the people of Gon- 
zales verbatim, and not considering them germane to the 
subject treated, we have not published them. — Publishers.) 

When I got home I met my darling and beloved wife. My 
neighbors and friends all came to see me and congratulate 
me on my safe return. I stayed at home and recuperated 
until January, 1873, when I began driving cattle to Indianola 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 77 

and shipping to New Orleans. Cuero was our nearest rail- 
road, being twenty-five miles off, and about the 9th of April, 
1873, I started there on some business connected with the 
shipping of cattle and to match a race with a certain party 
if I could do so. Just as I was about to start John Gay came 
to Manning Clement's house, where I happened to be, and 
told me they were opening a new road from Cuero to Ban 
Antonio by way of Eancho. The road came by Manniirj, 
Clements, and Gay told me if I would follow hii ' ' 
across the prairie I would save time and get to Cuero 
any trouble. I got about eighteen miles from home, oppo- 
site the Mustang mot, when I saw a man riding a gray horse 
off to the right of the road about 200 yards therefrom. I 
saw he was armed with a Winchester and that he had two 
six-shooters on the horn of his saddle. He turned a little 
to the right, apparently looking for cattle, I suppose to put me 
off my guard, but it really put me on my guard. I checked 
up and he got down off his horse. I was now in the fur- 
row leading to Cuero. I got down also, apparently to fix 
my saddle, but really to give him no advantage over me, for 
his arms and general appearance gave me the impression that 
he was either on the dodge or was an officer. He then mounted 
his horse and I did likewise, so we met face to face. We 
both stopped our horses and he said: 

"Do you live around here?'- 

I told him I was traveling from San Antonio on my way 
to Cuero and "am trjdng to follow this furrow, which I am 
told will take me to Cuero." I asked him how far it was and 
he said about seven miles. Then he remarked that he had 
been over to Jim Cox's to serve some papers on him. "I'm 
sheriff of this county," said he. I had understood up to this 
time that Dick Hudson was the acting sheriff of DeWitt. I 
said: 



78 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

"I suppose your name is Dick Hudson?" 

He said no, but that Dick Hudson was his deputy and his 
name was Jack Helms. 

I told him that my name was John Wesley Hardin. He 
says, "are you Wesley?" at the same time offering me his 

^efused to take his hand and told him that he now had 

. u nee to take me to Austin. 

• ..'e are man to man and face to face; on equal terms. 

•• :. iiave said I was a murderer and a coward, and have had 
your deputies after me. Now arrest me if you can. I dare 
you to try it." 

"Oh," he said, "Wesley, I am your friend, and my depu- 
ties are hunting you on their own acount, and not mine." 

.1 had drawn my pistol by this time and he begged me to 
put it up and not to kill him. I said: 

"You are armed, defend yourself. You have been going 
round killing men long enough, and I know you belong to a 
legalized band of murdering cowards and have hung and mur- 
dered better men than yourself."' 

He said: "Wesley, I won^t fight you, and I know you are 
too brave a man to shoot me. I have the governor's procla- 
mation offering $500 for your arrest in my pocket, but I will 
never try to execute it if you will spare my life, I will be your 
friend." 

I told him that his deputies were putting themselves to a 
lot of trouble about me and that I would hold him responsible 
for their actions. Well, I let him alone and we rode on to- 
gether to Cuero. We separated about two miles from Cuero, 
agreeing to meet next day in town and come to an under- 
standing. 

Well, we met as agreed, and he wanted me to join his vig- 
ilant company, of wliich he was captain. I declined, be- 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 79 

cause the people with whom he was waging war were iny 
friends. I told him all I asked of him was that I and my 
immediate friends should be neutral. This was understood 
and we parted, agreeing to meet again on the 16th, he 
bringing one of his party, and I bringing Manning Clements 
and George Tennille. 

I remained in town, finished my business and went to a bar 
room on the southwest corner of the square. I took a drink 
with some friends and then went into a back room where a 
poker game was going on and joined the play. It was a 
freeze out for $5 and I won the pot. We all went to the bar 
and a man named J. B. Morgan rushed up to me and wanted 
me to treat him to a bottle of champagne. I declined to do 
this. He got furious and wanted to fight, starting to draw 
a pistol on me. Some friends of mine caught him and I 
walked out, saying that I mshed jqo row. I walked outside 
and was talking to a friend. I had forgotten all about Mor- 
gan when he came up again; told me I had insulted him arid 
had to fight. He asked me if I was armed. I told him I 
was. He pulled his pistol half way out, remarking: 

"AYell, it is time you were defending yourself." 

I pulled my pistol and fired, the ball striking him just 
above the left eye. He fell dead. I went to the stable, got 
my horse and left town unmolested. 

The coroner held an inquest over his dead body, but what 
the inquest was I never learned. Afterward (about four 
years) I heard I was indicted for the murder of J. B. Mor- 
gan and about seven years afterward I entered a plea of 
guilty to the charge of manslaughter, getting two years in 
the penitentiary for it. 

In the year 1878, and in fact previous to this date, there 
existed in Gonzales and DeWitt counties a vigilant committee 
that made life, liberty and property uncertain. This vig- 



8o THie I*IFE OF JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 

ilant band was headed by Jack Helmes, the sheriff of De 
Witt, and his most able Ueutenants were his deputies, Jim 
Cox, Joe Tumlinson and Bill Sutton. Some of the best 
men in the country had been murdered by this mob. Pipkin 
Taylor had been decoyed by them at night from his house 
and shot down because he did not indorse the killing of his 
own sons-in-law Henry and Will Kelly by this brutal Helms' 
mob. Any one who did not indorse their foul deeds 
or go with them on their raids, incurred their hatred and it 
meant death at their hands. They were about 200 strong at 
this time and were waging a war with the Taylors and their 
friends. 

About the 1st of April, Jim Taylor shot Bill Sutton seri- 
ously in Cuero one night in a billiard hall. Such was the 
state of affairs when Manning Clements, George Tennille 
and myself went to Jim Cox's house to meet Jack Helms and 
Jim Cox, the acknowledged leaders of the vigilant band. 
When we got there they took me off and said they could and 
would work me out of all trouble if I would but join theme 
They said there were but two sides — for them or against 
them. I talked as if I would join them and they told me of 
a dozen or more of my friends whom they wished to kill, and 
who were the best men in the community, their sin lying in 
the fact that they did not endorse the vigilant committee's 
murdering. They told me they would have to do a whole lot 
of work to get me clear of all trouble, so I would have to do 
a whole lot for them, and they went so far as to say that if 
(jeorge Tennille and Manning Clements did not join them 
they would have to be killed. I told them then that neither 
George Tennille, Manning Clements nor myself would join 
them; that we wanted peace. I told them that I would not 
swap work wdth them, but that they and their mob must keep 
out of our country and let us alone. They agreed to this 



THE I.IPE OF JOHN WESI<EY HARDIN. 8 1 

and said that they would let me know if any danger threat- 
ened me, but swore eternal vengeance on the Taylors and 
their friends. 

When they had gone I told Manning and George just what 
had passed between us and George remarked that it would 
not be a week before the murdering cowards made a raid 
on us. 

About the 23rd of April, 1873, Jack Helms and fifty men 
came into our neighborhood and inquired for Manning, 
George and myself. They insulted the women folks and Jack 
Helms was particularly insulting to my wife because she 
would not inform him of some of the Taylor party. We 
were all out hunting cattle at the time and when we came 
back and found out what had happened we determined to 
stop this way of doing, and sent word to the Taylors to meet 
us at the Mustang mot in order to concoct a plan of cam- 
paign. 

There I met Jim, John, and Scrap Taylor, while Manning 
Clements, George Tennille and myself represented our side 
of the house. It was there agreed to fight mob law to the 
bitter end, as our lives and families were in danger. 

A fight came off not long afterwards near Tomlinson creek, 
in which Jim Cox, one of the leaders of the vigilant conmiit- 
tee, and Jake Christman were killed. It was currently re- 
ported that I lead the fight, but as I have never pleaded to 
that case, I will at this time have little to say, except to state 
that Jim Cox and Jake Christman met their death from tlie 
Taylor party about the 15th of May, 1873. 

On the 17th I was to meet Jack Helms at a little town 
called Albukirk in Wilson county. I went there according 
to agreement, a trusty friend accompanying me in the person 
of Jim Taylor. We talked matters over together and failed 
to agree, he seriously threatening Jim Taylor's life, and so I 



82 THE LIFE OP JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

■went and told Jim to look out, that Jack Helms had sworn 
to shoot him on sight because he had shot Bill Sutton and 
because he was a Taylor. Jim quickly asked me to introduce 
him to Helms or point him out. I declined to do this, but 
referred him to a friend that would. I went to a blacksmith 
shop and had my horse shod. I paid for the shoeing and 
was fixing to leave when I heard Helms' voice: 

"Hands up, you d — s — of a b — .'' 

I looked around and saw Jack Helms advancing on Jim 
Taylor with a large knife in his hands. Some one hollered 

"Shoot the d d scoundrel." It appeared to me that 

Helms was the scoundrel, so I grabbed my shot gun and 
fired at Capt. Jack Helms as he was closing with Jim Taylor. 
I then threw my gun on the Helms crowd and told them not 
to draw a gun, and made one fellow put up his pistol. In 
the meantime Jim Taylor had shot Helms repeatedly in the 
head, so thus died the leader of the vigilant committee, the 
sheriff of DeWitt, the terror of the country, whose name was 
a horror to all law-abiding citizens, meet his death. He fell 
with twelve buckshot in his breast and several six-shooter 
balls in his head. All of this happened in the midst of his 
own friends and advisors, who stood by utterly amazed. Tlie 
news soon spread that I had killed Jack Helms and I received 
many letters of thanks from the widows of the men whom 
he had cruelly put to death. Many of the best citizens ol 
Gonzales and DeWitt counties patted me on the back and 
told me that was the best act of my life. 

On the 18th of May, 1873, we got news of a mob of fifty 
men under the leadership of Joe Tomlinson who were com- 
ing into our neighborhood to Idll and raid us in revenge. 
We concluded at once to go and meet them, and thirteen of 
us got together. It was about fifteen miles to where they 
were making their headquarters at Joe Tomlinson's place. 



84 THE I.IFE OP JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 

four miles west of YorktowD:. We found out that there were 
about fifty men in and around the house and that at night 
most of them slept on the galleries. We got there at 2 a. m. 
in the night of the 18th and agreed that we should slip up 
to the gallery and if we did this undiscovered to fire upon 
the sleeping mob. But the vigilants' dogs soon announced 
our arrival and that game was up. We then sent runners to 
our friends for more help, detailing three men to do this. 
The remaining ten were to hold the enemy in the house until 
reinforcements came, when we would clean them out. Our 
forces began arriving about 4 p. m. and we were fixing to 
attack them when a party led by Deputy Sheriff Dave Blair 
made its appearance to relieve the Tomlinson party in the 
house. I took five men and headed them off in front of 
the house, and in fact, captured Blair right in front of his 
friends. When he declared that he was there to reheve Tom- 
linson I told him that was just what I was there to prevent 
and he had just as well commence work on me. 

^^Well," he said, ^^under the circumstances I won't persist, 
especially as all my men have deserted me." 

Things began to get in shape for a good fight when some 
of the best citizens of the county came out to where we were 
preparing for battle. We had about seventy-five men and 
they had fifty. These men were the means of preventing a 
collision, and through their efforts a treaty was made which 
each and every one of both parties should sign. It was 
agreed that we should go to Clinton, the county seat of De 
Witt county, and have this arrangement recorded, which we 
did the following day, the 20th of May, 1873. 

I resumed my work again and commenced to ship and drive 
cattle without anything tragical happening until December, 
27th, 1873, when Wiley Prigon was attacked by four men 
and murdered in his store eight miles below Cuero. Prigon 



THE WPE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 85 

was a Taylor man and his murderers belonged to the Sutton 
gang. Thus was war stirred up between the two parties 
again. 

They met this time at Cuero, each party trying to get the 
drop on the other. Shooting was the order of the day, but 
finally friends of both parties undertook to pacify them and 
an armistice was agreed to, both parties again signing articles 
of peace. 

My wife and baby had taken a trip to Comanche to see my 
parents and my brother Joe's family. 

On the 1st of January, 1874, leaving my cattle business 
in my father-in-law's hands, I pulled out for Commanche. 
Dr. J. Brosius went with me. At Austin I got sick and we 
continued our journey in a buggy. I met my wife and baby 
Molly in Commanche with my parents and brothers and sis- 
ters. I stayed there until the latter part of January and 
then, in company with my wife and baby, Dr. Brosius and 
Gip Clements, started home for Gonzales county by way of 
San Saba and Llano. 

While in Comanche I had bought a race horse named 
"Rondo and I carried him with me on my way to Gonzales. 
I stopped at Llano and while there bought a herd of steers 
for the market and made a race for $500, which I easily won. 
So I journeyed on to Gonzales and reached home about the 
15th of February. I then began gathering cattle for Kan- 
sas. 

In the meantime the Sutton party had violated their 
pledges and on several occasions had turned our cattle loose. 

In April, 1874, Sutton started some cattle north and he 
himself was going by rail to Wichita, Kansas. We had often 
tried to catch him, but he was so wily that he always eluded 
us. Jim Taylor had shot him arid broken his arm in a sa- 
loon in Cuero. He had a horse killed under him in a fight 



86 THE WFE OF JOHN WESI^FY HARDIN. 

on the prairie below Cuero and he had another killed while 
crossing the river below there. He was looked upon as hard 
to catch and I had made futile efforts to get him myself. I 
had even gone down to his home at Victoria, but did not get 
him. 

In March my brother Joe and Aleck Barrickman came 
down from Comanche to visit me and after he had stayed 
several da3^s I got him to go to Indianola, our shipping point. 
I told Joe that Bill Sutton was my deadly enemy and that 
he was soon going to Kansas by way of New Orleans. I told 
him to find out when Sutton would leave Indianola so that 
I could tell Jim Taylor and go at once to Indianola to kill 
him, as it was a life or death case whenever either I or Jim 
Taylor met him. So my brother and Barrickman went down 
there and attended to my shipping interests and in doing so 
got acquainted with Bill Sutton and found out when he would 
leave Indianola on the steamer ^^Clinton." He let me know 
at once and I told Jim Taylor. Jim took Billy Taylor with 
him and went to Indianola. They went to my brother, who 
was boarding at Pat Smith's, who kept them informed as to 
when Sutton and party would board the "Clinton." In the 
meantime he had hired two of the best horses in town for 
them to leave on. Besides that, there were six or eight brave 
men ready there who stood in with the play. The plan was 
to let Sutton and his crowd go aboard and then for Jim and 
Billy Taylor to follow and commence shooting, as soon as 
they saw them. Bill Sutton, his wife and Gabe Slaughter 
passed in at one of the dining hall doors. Jim and Billy 
Taylor met them and immediately began shooting. Sutton 
tried to draw his pistol, but failed, being pierced through the 
head and heart with Jim Taylor's bullets. Meanwhile a 
deadly fight was going on between Billy Taylor and Gabe 
Slaughter. Gabe Slaughter had found out that Jim Taylor 



THE I,IFE OF JOHN WKSI.EY HARDIN. 87 

was going to shoot Sutton and called out, "Look out, Billj^" 
when Billy Taylor turned round on him, saying: 

"Look out yourself, you d — s — of a b — ." 

He fired on Gabe Slaughter, who was drawing his pistol, 
and Slaughter fell with Sutton, a pistol in his hand and a bul- 
let in his head. 

The Taylor boys passed out of the "Clinton" on to the 
wharf and came up to the stock pens where my hands were 
branding cattle. There they got horses and came at once 
to Cuero, about sixty miles from Indianola, and from thence 
up to where I was branding cattle for the trail. 

It was now April and I soon started my cattle for Wichita, 
Kansas, and put Joe Clements in charge. I was to receive 
the cattle in June at or near Wichita, but was not going with 
the cattle myself. 

About this time my brother Joe and my cousin, Aleck 
Barrickman went home to Comanche and my wife and baby 
went with them to visit my parents there. It was under- 
stood that I should spend a week with them on my way up 
to Kansas. 

Jim Taylor and I agreed to start another herd, as Ed 
Glover, Jim, Joe, Gip and Manning were all going up the 
trail, he (Jim) did not want to be left in that country by 
himself. In about two weeks we had complied with the laws 
and had started another herd of about 1000 head. We plac- 
ed Dr. J. B. Brosius in charge with instructions to go by 
Hamilton, in Hamilton county, and they were there to send 
me word at Comanche, where I would be with my parents. 

About the 23rd of April, 1874, Jim Taylor and I left Gon- 
zales, bound first for Comanche and then for Wichita. 

In the meantime Eube Brown had arrested Billy Taylor 
and had sent him at once to Galveston, so we never had a 



88 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

chance to rescue him. There was also a reward of $500 of- 
fered for Jim Taylor. 

We got to Comanche on or about the 28th of April, having 
"Rondo" and two other race horses with us. It was not 
long before I made two races to be run on the Comanche 
tracks on the 26th of May, 1874. I was to run "Rondo'' 
against a mare that had beaten him before. My brother 
had a horse named "Shiloh" which I also matched, and a 
cousin of mine, Bud Dixon, matched a horse of his called 
"Dock." 

The 26th of May was my birth day. About the 5th, Jim 
Taylor and I went with my brother and the sheriff's party 
some twenty miles into Brown county to get some cattle that 
belonged to my brother. The cattle were in possession of 
the Gouldstones and we got them and started back without 
any trouble. Night overtaking us, we stopped at Mrs. 
Waldrup's to pen our cattle. At the supper table Mrs. 
Waldrup told us how one Charles Webb, a deputy sheriff of 
Brown county, had come to her house and arrested Jim Buck 
Waldrup and had cursed and abused her. She had told him 
that no gentleman would curse a woman. Of course we all 
agreed with her. This is the first time I had ever heard of 
Charles Webb. There were present that night at the sup- 
per table Bill Cunningham, Bud and Tom Dixon, Jim and 
Ham Anderson, Aleck Barrickman, Jim Taylor and Jim 
Milligan (deputy sheriffs), Joe Hardin, Jim Taylor and my- 
self. We were all first cousins to each other except Jim 
Taylor. There is no doubt but that we all sympathized with 
Mrs. Waldrup, who had been so abused by Charles Webb. 
On my trial afterwards for the killing of Webb the State 
relied on a conspiracy being formed at the supper table to 
kill Webb, and they used Cunningham to prove it, but they 
utterly failed, or else they would have broken my neck or 



THK LIFE OF JOHNAVESLKY H/VKDIN. 89 

found me guilty of murder in the first degree. The evidence 
that Cunningham gave on my trial was that my brother Joe 
(who was not indicted with me) had said: ^'We will get 
away with him at the proper time." That statement was aa 
absolute lie. Cunningham was supposed to be our friend, 
but at my trial was looked upon as one of my brother's mur- 
derers and my enemy. But to return to my story. 

We drove the cattle home next morning to Comanche and 
from that until the 26th but one more incident worthy of 
note occurred. 

Henry Ware was a bully from Canada, and from some cause 
or other he disliked my brother Joe. He came to the herd 
one day (Jim Taylor told me this) and claimed a cow and 
my brother told him he could not get it. Ware persisted and 
put his hand to his Winchester, when my brother ordered 
him out of the herd at the point of a six-shooter, an order 
which, the Hon. Henry Ware promptly obeyed, and he did 
not get his cow. 

The 26th of May saw n big crowd at the races, the news of 
which had been published all over the country. "Eondo" 
ran first and won easily. "Shiloh" came next and had a 
walk o/er. Next came "Dock," which was a close race, but 
he won by six feet. So I and my friends won everything in 
sight. I won about $3000 in cash, fifty head of cattle, a 
wagon or two and fifteen head of saddle horses. I set more 
than one man afoot and then loaned them the horses to ride 
home on. 

I had heard that morning that Charles Webb, the deputy 
sheriff from Brown county, had come over to Comanche with 
fifteen men to kill me and capture Jim Taylor for the re- 
ward. I also heard that he had said that John Karnes, the 
sheriff of Comanche, was no man or sheriff because he allow- 
ed a set of murderers to stay around him, headed by the no- 



90 THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

torious John Wesley Hariiii, and as he (Karnes) would not 
attend to his business, he would do it for him. I knew that 
Webb had arrested a whole cow camp a short time before and 
had treated a man whom he called John Wesley Hardin most 
cruelly, telling him he was afraid of his own name and job- 
bed him in the side with his gun, knowing positively that 
1 was not in the country at that time. If I had been there 
I would have taught him a lesson sooner. 

He did not make any breaks at the race tracks, but when 
we all came back to town he swore time and time again that 
he would kill me and capture Jim Taylor, and that this 
would be done before the sun went down. When I was told 
this I laughed and said I hoped he would put it off till dark 
or altogether. 

We were all going from bar to bar, trying to spend some 
of the money we had won. I remember in one saloon 1 
threw a handful of $20 gold pieces on the counter and called 
for the drinks. Some of my friends picked them up and 
thought I was drinking too freely and told me if any scrap 
came up I would not be able to protect myself. I assured 
them I was all right, but at last thought I had better go home 
to avoid any possible trouble. 

I got Jeff Hardin, my little brother, to go to my brother 
Joe's stable and get his horse and buggy to drive out to my 
father's, who lived about two miles northwest from town. I 
bought such supplies as were needed at home and told Jeff 
to put them in the buggy and then to come up to Jack 
Wright's saloon on the corner, where Jim Taylor and my- 
self would drive out to my father's. 

We invited the whole crowd up to Jack Wright's to take a 
last drink. Frank Wilson, a deputy sheriff under Karnes, 
came up and locked arms with me just as I was going to 
drink and said: 



THE UFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 9 1 

"John, I want to see you." 

I said all right. 

This saloon was situated on the northwest corner of the 
square, the front facing the square to the east, with a door 
in front, and another door to the north near the west end of 
the saloon. Frank Wilson and I went out at the north door 
and then west for about ten steps, when I told him that was 
far enough and stopped on the back street west of the saloon. 
Frank said: 

"John, the people here have treated you well; now don't 
drink any more, but go home and avoid all trouble." 

I told him Je2 had gone for the buggy, and I was going as 
soon as he came. He says: 

"You know it is a violation of the law to carry a pistol." 

I knew now that he was trpng to pump me, so I told him 
my pistol was behind the bar and threw open my coat to 
show him. But he did not know I had a good one under 
my vest. I looked to the south and saw a man, a stranger to 
me, with two six-shooters on coming towards us. I said to 
Frank: 

"Let's go back to the saloon. I want to pay my bill and 
then go home." 

We went into the saloon and we were stopped by Jim Tay- 
lor who said: 

"Wes, you have drank enough; let us go home; here is Jeff 
with the buggy." 

I said: "Let us go in and get a cigar, then we will go 
home." 

About this time Daves Karnes remarked: 

"Here comes that damned Brown county sheriff." 

I turned around and faced the man whom I had seen com- 
ing up the street. He had on two six-shooters and was in 
about fifteen steps from me, advancing. He stopped when 



92 THE I<IFE OF JOHN WESI^EY HAKDIN. 

he got to within iive steps of me, then stopped and scrutiniz- 
ed me closely, with his hand behind him. I asked him: 
"Have you any papers for my arrest?^' 
He said: "I don't know you/' 
I said: "My name is John Wesley Hardin/' 
He said: "Now I know you, but have no papers for your 
arrest." 

"Well/' said I, "I have been informed that the sheriff of 
Brown county has said that Sheriff Karnes of this county 
was no sheriff or he would not allow me to stay around 
Comanche with my murdering pals." 

He said: "I am not responsible for what the sheriff of 
Brown county says. I am only a deputy." 

So Dave Karnes spoke up and said: "Men, there can be 
no difference between you about John Karnes," and said: 
"Mr. Webb, let me introduce you to Mr. Hardin." 

I asked him what he had in his hand behind his back and 
he showed a cigar. I said: 

"Mr. Webb, we were Just going to take a drink or a cigar; 
won't you join us?" 

He replied, "certainly." As I turned around to go in the 
north door, I heard some one say, "Look out. Jack." It was 
Bud Dixon, and as I turned around I saw Charles Webb 
drawing his pistol. He was in the act of presenting it when 
I jumped to one side, drew my pistol and fired. 

In the meantime Webb had fired, hitting me in the left 
side, cutting the length of it, inflicting an ugly and painful 
wound. My aim was good and a bullet hole in the left cheek 
did the work. He fell against the wall and as he fell he fired 
a second shot, which went into the air. 

In the meantime, my friends, Jim Taylor and Bud Dixon, 
seeing that Webb had taken the drop on me and had shot 
me, pulled their pistols and fired on him as he was falling, 



THE LIFK OF JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. 93 

not knowing that I had killed him. Each shot hit him in the 
side and breast. 

At my first attempt to shoot, Frank Wilson started to 
draw his pistol, but as soon as I had fired on Webb and before 
Wilson had time to draw, I covered him and told him to 
hold up his hands, which he did. 

Several men were standing at the east end of the building 
next to the public square. When the shooting commenced 
they started to rush over to the saloon, but soon retreated. 

I afterwards learned the plan was for Charles Webb to as- 
sassinate me and then for the crowd to rush up and with 
Frank Wilson's help to rush in and overpower Jim Taylor, 
thus getting the reward. They expected my relatives and 
friends to stand still while they did their bloody work. They 
believed they could not arrest Taylor without killing me, 
hence they attacked me. 

The crowd outside ran back, as I stated above, and cried 
out: 

"Hardin has killed Charley Webb; let us hang him." 

The sheriff of the county, John Karnes, who was my friend 
came in with a shot gun and asked, "Who did this work?" 

I told him I had done it, and would surrender to him if 
he would protect me from the mob. I handed him my pistol 
to show my good faith. 

About ten men ran around the east comer and commenced 
firing on us and Jim Taylor. Bud Dixon and Aleck Barrick- 
man drew their pistols and started to fire, when they ran back 
behind the corner. They were reinforced and charged again. 
John Karnes met them at the door and demanded that they 
disperse. They overpowered and disarmed him of his gun 
and were trying to get my pistol away from him. I told niy 
friends that there was no protection for us there, and told 
Jim Taylor to come with me and the other two to go back 



94 'I'HK LIFE OF JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 

west. So Jim and I ran across the street to some horses that 
were hitched near by and as I ran I pulled my knife out of 
my pocket and cut the hitching ropes. 

I now saw that my wife and sister Mat were in the crowd 
crying and looking down towards my brother's law office. 
I saw my father and brother Joe coming toward the scene 
with shot guns. 

I concluded the best thing to do to avoid bloodshed was 
to get out of town. Jim Taylor wanted to charge the mob, 
but I said: "For God's sake, don't do that; you may hit tiie 
wrong one." (He told me afterwards he wanted to kill Hen- 
ry Ware.) I caught his horse and kept him from shooting. 
We turned and went running out of town, the mob firing on 
us and the sheriff's party trjdng to protect us. 

Dixon and Anderson, seeing we were safely out of town, 
got on their horses also and we met again at my father's 
where my father and brother joined us with the sheriff. 

I was willing to surrender, but the sheriff said he could 
not protect me; that the mob was too strong and Charley 
Webb had been their leader. He advised me to stay around 
until the excitement died down and then come in and sur- 
render. 

So I went to some mountains about four miles off and next 
day my brother and some friends came out to see me and my 
party and by them I sent back the horses we had gotten out 
of town on and two pistols we had found in the saddle 
pockets. 

At that time there were some companies of rangers there 
who were organized to keep the peace and protect the frontier 
from Indians. They took the place of the infamous State po- 
lice. Bill Waller was their captain, and he wished to make 
himself famous at once. The sheriff told him he could and 
would arrest me whenever he was sure he could protect mc. 



THE UFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 95 

He tried to get Waller to assist him in doing this, but Wal- 
ler was really the captain of a "vigilant" band and would not 
do it. Even my father and brother told Waller that if he 
would himself guarantee me protection I would come in and 
surrender. Waller could guarantee nothing, but persisted 
m hunting me with his mob, composed of the enemies of all 
law and order. He aroused the whole country and had about 
500 men scouting for me, whose avowed purpose was to hang 
me. Waller arrested my father and Barrickman's family and 
took them to Comanche to my brother's, where he put them 
under guard under the pretense of keeping them from giv- 
ing me any information. They then arrested my brother, 
with Tom and Bud Dixon and placed them in the court house 
under guard. They also arrested Dr. Brosius, who had come 
to tell us that our herd was at Hamilton. In fact, there were 
squads of from 50 to 100 in each party hunting for me all 
over the country and instead of the excitement d3ring out, 
it grew greater all the time. Once, two scouting parties met 
and fired upon each other, keeping it up for two hours until 
each drew off for reinforcements. 

They had now cut me off from all communication with, my 
relatives and friends and were "brushing" the country for 
me. 

About the night of the 1st of June, 1874, we camped about 
S'x miles west of Comanche in a valley close to a creek that 
had a large pool of water in it about two miles below. Wa- 
ter was very scarce and we got most of our water from this 
pool. The rangers found it out and we had several fights 
at or near the spring. On this night they found two of our 
horses. Jim Taylor, Aleck Barrickman, Ham Anderson and 
myself stayed together at night, but scouted in the day time, 
and I could not impress on Barrickman and Anderson the 
gravity of the situation. They could not understand how 



96 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

the feeling could be so bitter against us and they knew how 
well my father stood and that my brother Joe had a host of 
friends. They kept saying that there was no danger, and I 
could not even get them to stake their horses at night. 

On the night of the 1st of January about 100 men in a 
party found their horses not far off. They caught the horses 
and camped on a hill in a clump of live oaks about 600 yards 
from where we were down in the valley. About 2 o'clock I 
got up and re-staked "Frank" and ^Dock," mine and Jim's 
horses, and as I could not see the other horses I woke up 
Ham and Aleck and told them their horses were gone. They 
got up to hunt them and soon came back reporting the pres- 
ence of the scouters and saying that there must be at least 
150 of them. I thought they were waiting till day to attack 
so I concluded to move camp at once. The moon was shin- 
ing brightly when we pulled out. Two men were on foot, 
packing their saddles simply because they were fools enough 
not to stake their horses when their lives were at stake. I 
told Ham and Aleck to go to a spot near a spring and we 
would go and get some horses from a place near there where 
Joe had some saddle horses running loose. So we parted, 
Jim Taylor and I going after the horses, Ham and Aleck 
going down the creek, their saddles and blankets on their 
backs. It was not long before we found the bunch of sad- 
dle horses, drove them to the pen and caught the two best. 

We started back for the boys when I saw a man coming to- 
wards the pen. We saw he was lost. He got within ten 
steps of me when I threw my shot gun down on him and 
told him his life depended on his actions. The moon was 
shining brightly and Jim Taylor had caught his bridle. He 
said: 

"John, for God's sake don't kill me.' 

I asked him who he was and he said: 



THE LIFB OP JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 97 

"I am your friend, but I am a ranger. We found your 
horses tonight and knew you were close by. They sent me 
to Comanche for reinforcements. By dayUght you will have 
300 men around you and escape will be impossible. If they 
catch you they are going to hang you." 

I then said to Jim: "We had better kill him; dead men 
tell no tales." 

He said: "Oh, for God's sake, don't kill me; I'll never 
tell on you and will do anything for you." 

After satisfying myself that he would do to trust I gave 
him a $20 gold piece to give to my wife and told him to tell 
lier to go to Gonzales, where I was going to start for next 
morning. I told her not to be uneasy about me; that I 
would never surrender alive and that Jim and I had agreed 
to die together. That if either of our horses were shot down 
we would take the other up, but that we expected to be run 
up on before we got out of the country. 

After many pledges of fidelity on his part we let him go 
and took the horses on to our companions. When we got 
there I told them that Jim and I were going to leave the 
country and if they wanted to go with us to say so quickly. 
They wanted us to stay and go to Bill Stones' house, a man 
whom they had lately helped out of trouble and whom they 
looked on as a friend. They said they had done nothing and 
no one would hurt them. So they said they would stay and go 
to Bill Stones'. I told them to leave the country as Jim and 
T were going to do; that they did not have to go with us, but 
to go anywhere, so that they got away from this country. I 
told them that Bill Stones would betray them if they went 
there; that these were no times to trust such men. They 
still said they were going, so I pulled out five $20 gold pieces 
and told them to divide it among them, and so we bade 
them good bye. It proved to be a last farewell. They went 



98 THK LIFE OF JOHN WKSI.FY HARDIN. 

to Stones' who betrayed them and they were shot to death. 

It was now dayhght and Jim and I had to go out on the 
prairie to go the way we wanted to. To our right where 
we had camped the valley was full of men, so we turned to 
the left. The country was very rough and rugged, deep 
gulches making it almost impassable except at certain places. 
The rangers by this time had spied us and were after us, 
but as we were a quarter of a mile ahead we felt perfectly 
safe. We went on, crossing gulch after gulch, until we 
crossed a very deep one just before coming to the Brown- 
wood and Comanche road. There was a long hill on the 
other side and just as we got to the summit we ran right upo] 
Capt. Waller himself and 200 men. These were the re-j 
inforcements going out to meet the other rangers, who were! 
now pursuing us. Capt. Waller ordered his men to halt and 
told us to surrender. I said, "Jim, look out! Follow me!" 
Putting spurs to "Frank" I went down the mountain, with 
Capt. Waller, his men and the bullets flying behind us. 

Seeing that we must now meet our former pursuers, who 
were crossing the gulch at the only crossing, I said: "Jim, 
let us charge them and double theiu up as quick as lightning." 
So we wheeled again and Jim being ahead I told him to hold 
"Dock," as he was a fast quarter horse and my "Frank" was 
a mile horse. We were now charging up hill right among 
Waller's men, who were afraid to fire for fear of hitting each 
other. Often in that charge I would tell a man to drop his 
gun and he would obey me. Jim fired several shots and as 
we were passing out of the lines I saw a man aiming at him. 
I told him to drop his gun, which he did. We had passed 
out of the lines when some one upbraided him for his coward- 
ice and he picked it up again and fired at us, hitting "Frank" 
in the hind leg but not hurting him enough to make him 
lame. 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 99 

It was now about 9 a. m. and drizzling rain. Capt. Waller 
apparently conceived the idea of running on us and turned 
his horse loose after us for that purpose. I told Jim to hold 
up as I wanted to kill him. I wheeled, stopped my lior.-e and 
cocked my shot gun. I had a handkerchief over the tubes 
to keep the caps dry, and just as I pulled the trigger the wind 
blew it back and the hammer fell on the handkerchief. That 
saved his life. Waller checked up his horse and broke back 
to his men. 

Jim and I went on about 200 yards further and got down 
to see what the damage was. We found that "Frank" was 
shot, as were also our saddles and clothes, but that we were 
unhurt. The pursuing party fixing to surround us again, we 
got on our horses again and ran off from them. It seemed to 
me as if their horses stood still. We were riding race horses. I 
had refused $500 for "Frank" and $250 for "Dock," Good 
horse flesh is a good thing in a tight. 

After running off from our pursuers we thought ourselves 
pretty safe, as they were behind us and we were riding good 
horses. In this, however, we were mistaken, for we presently 
came up on twenty-five men who were hunting us, but we 
got around them all right. We went boldly on, going around 
the town of Comanche and striking the Hamilton and 
Comanche road ten or twelve miles further on. It was rain- 
ing hard and the country, as well as being rough, was covered 
with water, making the roads almost impassible. We thought 
we had done well, considering all this, to say nothing of the 
scouting parties we had to avoid. 

We went on to Bud Tatum's, just eighteen miles from 
(/omanche and we "hollered" and asked if we could stay all 
lught. He told us to get down, and I laid my double-bar- 
relled shotgun down alongside of the fence, as I did not want 
to appear too heavily armed. After we had put up our horses 



lOO THK I.IFK OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

and eaten supper I told the old man that we wanted an early 
start in the morning. He did not recognize us and promised 
to get us off early in the morning. He woke us up an hour 
before day and told us he had fed our horses. At the break- 
fast table he recognized me and asked me why I did not make 
myself known to him last night. I told him I did not want 
to alarm him. I was tired and did not want to take chances 
on his going and reporting me. He told us good bye and 
said: 

"Don't be afraid of this old man. I am a friend of your 
father and brother Joe." 

I got him to fix us up grub enough for a three day's tramp 
for two men. I told him to go out to the gate, get my double 
barreled gun and give it to my brother next time he went to 
town. He told me he was going that day, so I i lied out 
five $20 gold pieces and told him to give them to my wife. 

Thus we stopped on the public road eighteen miles from 
Comanche that first night. Thirtv rangers had passed by, 
going to Hamilton county to arrest the hands round our herd, 
but they never knew that we were zt old Bud Tatum's. They 
had actually taken my brother's saddle horses, his lace horse 
and my wife's buggy horses and mounted them to help hunt 
us. Jim and I, however, did not propose to be caught like 
rats and made our way to Austin, arriving at Fancy Jim Tay- 
lor's on the night of the 5th of June. 

He lived six miles northwest of Austin in the cedar brakes 
and we concluded to stay there and rest awhile. 

On the night of the 17th, my cook, with Charley and Alf 
Day rode up and told us that thirty rangers had come out to 
the herd in Hamilton countv, arrested the hands, had taken 
charge of the cattle and that they had barely escaped arrest. 
They had taken, they said, the rest of the hands to Comanche 
and held them there. On the 5th inst., they told me, the 



THE I.IFK OF JOHN WESLEY HARDEN. lOI 

mob had hung my brother, Joe G. Hardin, Tom and Bud 
Dixon, my cousins, and had shot to death Ham Anderson 
and Aleck Barrickman on their pallets at Bill Stones'. Jim 
Taylor was sick and hardly able to ride, so we agreed to sep- 
arate, as he wanted to go to Gonzales. Alf Day was his 
nephew and lie went with him. 

I went on the night of the 8th to the Colorado river with 
them and saw them safely through the city of Austin. I 
bade Jim Taylor good bye there for the last time and divided 
my purse with hjm, giving him ten $20 gold pieces to help 
him along. 

I went back to Fancy Jim's, changed horses and with a 
friend, Rodgers, started back for Comanche. 

We rode mostly at night and rested during the day. We 
got to old Bud Tatum's about sun down on the 10th and 
I sent Rogers up to Bud's to inquire into the situation. Bud 
had just come from Comanche and was loaded with informa- 
tion. He confirmed the report of the hanging and killing of 
my kinfolks. He said that any stranger going to Comanche 
was liable to be arrested and hung. He said to Rogers: '1 
would not go to town if I were you, but would go some other 
way unless you wish to be hung." 

Now I was convinced that my brother and relatives had 
been foully murdered. Up to this time I could not even en- 
tertain the idea. I knew that up to the time I killed Webb, 
no living man stood higher in the estimation of his neighbors 
as a man or a lawyer than my brother Joe. 

Nothing would do me now but to go to Comanche. My 
companion tried to dissuade me, but in vain. I told him we 
would go to father's that night, prowl around and see what 
we could learn. 

About 12 o'clock we got to father's house. We unhitched 
our horses and unsaddled them back of the field. We then 



I02 THE LIFE OF JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 

fed them and proceeded cautiously to the house. The last 
time we hcid heen there was on the 30th of May, when thirty 
men were guarding the house and had fired on us. Talk 
about hearing bullets hiss and sing! The air was full of them 
that night, and they whistled over my head as they had never 
done before. 

On this occasion we went to the well and began drawing 
water. I saw a man coming towards the well and waited 
until he got about ten steps from me, when I leveled my 
Winchester and told him his life depended on his actions. 
He said: 

"For God's sake, John, don't shoot me. I am staying here 
on purpose to see you. Your father has me employed to do 
the work in the house and round the garden patch. Nobody 
suspects me. I gave your wife that $20 gold piece you gave 
me at the horse pen. They are well, but they have hung 
Joe, Bud and Tom and killed Ham and Aleck." 

I said: "Hello, Dick; is that you?'' 

He said: "Yes." 

"Let us shake hands," said I, and he came forward and 
proved to be the same Dick Wade whom Jim and I had ar- 
rested at the horse pens on the night of the 1st. 

He then told me all about how the mob of 150 men had, 
on the night of the 5th, in the dead hours of midnight, come 
into the town of Comanche; had thrown ropes around the 
necks of Joe, Bud and Tom and had led them, bareheaded 
and barefooted, through the streets and out to some post oaks 
nearb}^, where they hung them until they were dead. He 
said that the next day old Bill Stones had led another band to 
his ranch and had shot to death Ham Anderson and Aleck 
Barrickman while they were sleeping on their pallets at his 
house. 

I asked him where they buried Joe and he showed me 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. IO3 

Avliere he lay buried near two live oaks. I stayed there by 
my brother's grave and sent Dick to town to see my father, 
but father would not let him awake my dear, sleeping wife, 
for he knew she would come to me, which meant death to 
me and all. 

Father and Dick talked the matter over, but father thought 
it imprudent for him to come and see me. He told Dick to 
tell me that Jane and Molly, with Barrickman's family, were 
guarded to keep them from giving any possible information. 
"Tell him," he said, "that if they find out he is in the coun- 
try they will kill me and wind up the family. Tell him not 
to surrender under any circumstances." 

So Dick came back to my brother's grave at about 3 a. m. 
He told me all my father had said. Eight there over my 
brother's grave I swore to avenge my brother's death, and 
could I but tell you what I have done in that way without 
laying myself liable, you would think I have kept my pledge 
well. While I write this, I say from the deepest depths of 
my heart that my desire for revenge is not satiated, and if I 
live another year, I promise my friends and my God to make 
another of my brother's murderers bite the dust. Just as 
long as I can find one of them and know for certain that he 
participated in the murder of my brother, just that and noth- 
ing more, right there, be the consequences what they may, 
1 propose to take life. 

It was now about 4 a. m. and whatever I was going to do 
had to be done quickly. I concluded to leave the country 
at once and go to Gonzales. If it had not been for my 
father, and the women and children I would not have left, 
but Waller had said that if I was seen in the country they 
would kill father and my little brother Jeff and wind up 
on the women and children. No one unless he had a heart as 
black and bloodthirsty as Bill Waller's co^ild ever La^^ Boade 



I04 THK life: of JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 

such a threat, or conceived such thoughts, so I woke my com- 
panion (from v/hom I had kept most of this news) and bid- 
ding Dick good bye, we saddled our horses. I saddled Frank 
and he saddled a mule. I then told Eogers just what was the 
matter; who I was and the extent of the danger. He said: 

^'Good God! I had no idea that you were John Wesley 
Hardin; all the money in the world would not have induced 
me knowingly to accompany you on such a trip, and here I 
am traveling to my grave \\dth the notorious John Wesley 
Hardin at $2 a day.'' 

I said: "You've got a pistol, haven't you?" 

He said he had. 

I asked him what he was going to do if a squad ran on us. 
He studied a while and said: 

"Well, I hired for the trip and will go through. I will 
use the pistol for my boss if necessary." 

We pulled out of Comanche about daylight and struck out 
for Lampasas on a straight line, over mountains and hills, 
when about 10 a. m. a scouting party ran on us. The mule 
had gotten leg sore and could not strike a lope. I would 
stop and let the party come up to within 200 or 300 yards 
of us, send a bullet from a needle gun over their heads, while 
my companion rode slowly along. Then I would catch up 
with him and again use my needle gun. We kept this up 
until it became monotonous. We then concluded to ride on 
together and if they ran on us, would fight it out together. 
At last we struck a creek and there we left our pursuers. 
We forged ahead until nearly sun down, when we began to 
get into the neighborhood of Lampasas. We saw a farm 
ahead and there we stopped, for "Frank" was almost as 
slow as the mule now. We rode up to the house to see if 
there were any horses hitched or staked which we could 
get. We saw an iron-gray horse staked in the field and we 



THE LIFE OP JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 105 

concluded to get him. The plan was for Eodgers to take 
"Frank^^ and the mule to Fancy Jim's near Austin and for 
me to go on. I went out to the field, caught the horse and 
saddled him. I bid Kodgers good bye and told him to take 
his time. I thought I had a good horse, but soon found 
out that I was wrong. It took me until nearly daylight 
to get to a friend^s house about eighteen miles off. When 
I got to his house at daylight I found my nag had seen bet- 
ter days and was "stove up." I said to my friend: 

"I am in a tight and this horse is not mine. I want you 
to send it back to the owner and tell him to charge it to 
John Wesley Hardin. I want your sorrel stallion. What is 
he worth?" 

The owner said he did not wish to sell him much, but 
would take $250 for him. Well, I told him to catch him 
quickly and offered him the money. He told me to give 
it to the old lady. So I counted out to her thirteen $20 
gold pieces. She said: 

"John, I nursed you when you were a baby; take back 
this gold piece. I sympathize with you and want you never 
to stop killing those Comanche devils who hung Joe." 

I told her I had plenty of money to do me and thanked 
her for her kindness. 

By this time Mr. Nix had come with the sorrel horse 
and when I started out to him Mrs. Mx told me to wait for 
my breakfast, which I did. 

While I was eating my breakfast Mrs. Nix went to niy 
saddle pockets and put $250 in them, which I found after- 
wards. 

In the meantime a squad of men came up to the house 
and I grabbed my Winchester and began firing at them 
from the window, when they broke and ran, but left one 
man on the ground with a bullet hole through his heart. 



Io6 THE LIFE OP JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

I bid my good friends goodbye, got on my sorrel horse and 
made my way to Fancy Jim's, where I rested several dajs. 

In company with Charley, the cook, I then went to Gon- 
zales, where I met George Tennille and others, who assured 
me of their lasting friendship and devotion. I heard from 
Jim Taylor, who was at Bill Jones' house. 

I soon found out that I was not even safe in Gonzales 
county, and that a mob of seventy-five men under the leader- 
ship of Eube Brown and Joe Tomlinson now threatened 
me. Most of my friends were in Kansas, and with a few 
exceptions, those that remained were badly scared. 

About the 20th of June I received a letter from Capt. 
Waller, who said he was going to send some prisoners to 
Gonzales and if they (the guard) were molested or the pris- 
oners released, that he would kill my father and little broth- 
er, and probably my wife and child, whom he now held as 
hostages. These prisoners were men from my Hamilton 
herd. Their names were J. B. Brosius, Scrap Taylor, Tuggle 
and White. I did not know exactly what to do. Of course 
I wanted to attack the guard, who were bringing my hands 
to De Witt, but still I knew that it meant death to my family. 
I concluded to keep quiet for a few days. I had about 
twenty men camped with me at Neal Bowen's, my father-in- 
law, on Elm creek, in Gonzales county. I finally came to 
the conclusion that I had better leave the country as soon 
cTS I could sell my cattle in Kansas. My money was running 
low, though I still had the $250 that Mrs. Nix had given 
me. I employed my father-in-law to go to Kansas, sell 
my cattle and return as quickly as possible. When the 
rangers got down to Chilton with my hands, they found that 
there were no charges against them, but learnt that the 
Tomlinson crowd were eager to kill them. They placed 
them in jail for that purpose, but nominally to hold them 



THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 107 

in event of some charges. On the night of the 30th of 
June these rangers turned over to the Tomlinson mob Scrap 
Taylor, Tuggle and White, who put them all to death by 
hanging. Dr. J. B. Brocius escaping. On the morning of 
July 1, 1874, these eighteen rangers, whose hands were still 
bloody with the blood of my friends, made a raid on me, 
but, after a skirmish, they got frightened and left on short 
order, leaving a dead ranger behind them. I then went 
towards Gonzales to see Jim Taylor, but got afraid of Bill 
Jones' intentions towards me and did not go there. 

I went to Tip Davis' near Gonzales and staid there two 
days. Then Mac Young and I bid our friends good-bye. 

George Tennille went part of the way with us, and when 
we bid him good-bye it was for the last time. 

Mac Young lived at Hempstead, and it was our intention 
to go there and take . the cars for Kansas, shipping our 
horses also. 

One evening about sundown we passed through Bellville, 
in Austin county, and went out to an old German's about 
two miles from town, on the Hempstead road. We had 
just stopped to get supper when a party under Sheriff 
Langhamer ran on us. It appeared that this old Ger- 
man had suspected us of being horse thieves and had 
sent to Brenham for officers to arrest us and had held back 
the serving of the supper until the sheriff and party arrived. 
They then told us that supper was ready, and as we sat at 
the table I heard some one open a cap box. I at once pulled 
one of my pistols out and put it in my lap, winking at Mac. 
About that time four or five men showed up with double- 
barreled shotguns, and I covered them with my six-shooter, 
demanding what they wanted. I told them if they did not 
at once turn their backs I would kill the last one of them, 



ioS THE IvIPE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

and when they turned to go I went, too, and Mac followed 
me into the corn patch. 

After we had been down there several minutes I saw about 
twelve men coming towards us, about 50 yards off, and one 
man in front, about ten steps away. I told the man riding 
in front to halt those men or he was a dead man. He called 
to them and they halted. 1 asked him v/ho he was and 
he said his name was Langhamer and that he was sheriff of 
the county. 

By this time Mac and I both had him covered and I had 
his horse (they having cut us off from ours). 

I said: "If you are sheriff, read your warrant for my 
arrest.'* 

He said: "I have no warrant for you." 

"Well,"said he, "if you are a law-abiding man, give up, 
surrender to an officer." 

He said: "I arrest you in the name of the State of Texas 
for unlawfully carrying arms." 

I said: "You will play h — arresting me. I am a law- 
abiding citizen, and have as much right to carry arms while 
traveling as you have." 

^^ell," said he, "if yoii are a law-abiding man, give up 
your pistol." 

By this time I was a little bit mad and told Mac to piili 
him off his horse, and if he resisted I would kill him,. 

Then he begged me not to kill him and said he would 
give up his horse and pistol. I got on and rode off safely, 
leaving Mac to the sheriff and posse, who arrested him on 
charge of carrying a pistol, for which he was fined $100, 
although he proved himself to be a traveller. 

1 rode on to my uncle's at Brenham that night, and in a 
few days Mac came up to see me, with his usual grin. 

I abandoned my trip to Kansas as impracticable, and had 



THE I*IPK OP JOHN WESI.KY HARDIN. IO9 

sent J. D. Hardin of Brenham up there to help sell the herd. 
He came back in two weeks and brought me $500, saying 
that Bowen, my father-in-law, was not willing to sell yet. 
I ^oote to Bowen to sell at once and come home, as I had 
determined to leave the country. Bowen soon did as 
directed and came home. 

I again went to Gonzales county, saw him and settled all 
of my cow debts. 

I was now about to leave, not because I was an outlaw, 
but because mob law had become supreme in Texas, as the 
hanging of my relatives and friends amply proved. 
I went to Brenham after my loving wife, who was as true 
to me as the magnet to the steel, met all my friends once 
more and settled my business there, preparatory to leaving 
the country. 

Mac Young and I then went to New Orleans by land, 
and I there rejoined my wife and baby. Harry Swain and 
wife of Brenham (of which town he was marshal) accom- 
panied them there. Harry had married Jenny Parks, and 
Hardin, a cousin of mine, Molly Parks; hence the friendship. 

After stopping a week or so in New Orleans, my wife, baby 
and myself took the steamboat and went to Cedar Keys; then 
we went to Gainesville, and there I went into the saloon 
business. 

I bought out Sam Burnet's saloon, and the first morning 
I opened. Bill McCulloch and Prank Harper, stockmen from 
Texas, walked in. I saw at once that both men recognized 
me, for I had punched cows with them both. We shook 
hands and they promised never to say anything about having 
seen me or knowing my alias. I had adopted the name 
of Swain, in honor of the marshal of Brenham, who was 
my friend and always had been. 

I stayed in that business until the third day after I had 



no THE LIFK OF JOHN WESLKY HARDIN. 

opened, when the marshal of Gainesville, having arrested 
a negro, was attacked by a mob on his way to the jail. 
I ran up and asked Wilson if he needed help. He said: 
"Yes, I summon you, Swain, to assist me in my legal ' 
duties." 

A big black negro asked me what I had to do with it, 
and I knocked him down. I shot another and told the rest 
to stand back. Just at that time Dr. Cromwell, a Ken- 
tuckian, came up with a double-barreled shotgun, and we 
landed that whole mob in jail, except the one I had knocked 
down and the one I had shot. This happened about the 
first of May, 1874. 

A few days after this, the negro Eli, who had caused the 
above disturbance, attempted to rape a respectable white 
lady, for which he was arrested and placed in jail. Some* 
of us went to that jail at midnight, set it on fire and burned 
Eli with it. The negroes were very much excited over 
the burning, but the coronor set everything all right by de- 
claring that Ely had burned himself up in setting the jail 
on fire. The coroner himself, by the way, was one of our 
party the night before. 

McCulloch and Harper soon came to me and offered to 
sell them out, as they had not yet done. I did so, and they 
went back home in January, 1875. I then sold out the 
most of my saloon and moved to Miconopy, eighteen miles 
from Gainesville, Fla. 

There I set up another bar and traded in horses. I soon 
sold out, but, in the meantime, had gone to Jacksonville, 
Fla., and had entered into a contract to furnish 150 beef 
cattle to Haddock & Co., butchers. It was not long before 
I had the beef cattle at Jacksonville, but Bill Haddock had 
just died. The firm refused to take the cattle, so I went into 
the butcher and liquor business. I sold out my saloon inter- 



\ TH« LIFK OP JOHN WKSLEY HARDIN. 1 1 1 

ests m May, 1875, finding that butchering and shipping cat- 
tle would consume all my time. 

I coiutinued in the cattle business, butchering and shipping, 
until tXe middle of April, when two Pinkerton detectives 
came to Florida and found me out. In the meantime, how- 
ever, I had gotten well acquainted with the sheriff and mar- 
shal and they were my friends and they "put me on" to the 
Pinkertons. 

I at once concluded to leave Jacksonville, and a police- 
man named Grus Kenedy was to go with me. We went to 
New Orleans, intending to go to old Mexico, but the Pinker- 
tons followed and came up on us near the line of Florida 
and Georgia. A fight was the natural result and two of the 
Pinkerton gang were killed. I escaped without a scratch. 

It had been arranged that my wife and children were to 
meet me at Eufala, in Alabama, but on account of the fight 
with the Pinkertons I was behind time. When I arrived I 
found that my beloved wife had fulfilled her part of the 
engagement, as I saw her name, Mrs. J. H. Swain and chil- 
dren, on the hotel register. On inquiry I found that she 
had gone to Polland, Alabama, where she had some relatives. 
We had agreed on this plan in case I could not meet her. 
I took the night train for Polland, and there met my be- 
loved wife and two children, Molly and John W. Hardin. 

After stopping there about a week we concluded to go to 
Tuxpan, and we started for that place about the 20th of 
August, 1876. When we arrived at East Poseugoula we 
found that we would be quarantined as being from New 
Orleans, where yellow fever had broken out. So I stop- 
ped at Poseugoula to await the raising of the quarantine. 

Then Gus and I went back to Mobile to play poker and 
cards and we were so successful as to win about $3500. Wo 
would go back and forward between Poseugoula and Mobile. 



112 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI^KY HARDIN. 

The presidential election was on while we were in MoMe 
and on that day all the gambling faternity there got on a 
high lonesome and took in the town. One of our party got 
into a row and of course I took a hand. The row started in 
a house where I had ordered some wine, hut instead they 
brought beer. I was mad at this and kicked the table over 
and the waiter yelled loud enough to awake the echoes. A 
row followed with Cliff Lewis, wliich soon became general. 
I did all in my power to stop it but failed. Our party got 
out in the streets and the party in the house (composed most- 
ly of city police) began firing on us and advancing. We 
now answered their fire, and after killing two and wound- 
ing another, we drove them back into the house. No one 
saw me shoot except Gus and no one saw Gus shoot except 
me. We then ran down a street and I threw my 45 Colts 
over into a yard and told Gus to do likewise, as we expected 
to give up if we were arrested. We went to a coffee house 
and ordered coffee. While drinking it four or five police- 
men came in and arrested Gus and myself. They took us 
to the lock up and told us we were arrested for murder. 
We of course denied being present at all while the shooting 
was going on. Finally, after spending three or four days 
in jail and spending $2500, we got a hearing and were dis- 
charged. The proprietors of the house testified that I had 
done everything possible to keep down the row and that 
Gus and I had left before the shooting took place. Gus had 
been arrested, to my surprise, for having a pistols. (which I 
had told him to throw away), three barrels of which had 
been discharged. Money, however, made this very easilj'^ ex- 
plained in court. 

I then went to Poseuagoula, got my wife and cliildren 
and went back to Polland, Alabama. We went out into the 



\ THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. II3 

\ 

Country south of Polland and stayed there with an nnclo of 
my^ wife's. 

Siion 'afterwards I concluded to go into the logging bus- 
iness and formed a partnership with a man named Shep 
Hardie, who was an experienced logger. Wo went west about 
sixty rriles to the Stick river and began, doing well. 

In the meantime, Brown Bowen, a brother of my wife's, 
under several indictnv-^^^- for murder, came to Polland. He 
wrote a letter home to my father-in-law, Neal Bowen, in Gon- 
zales county on Elm creek, and said that my wife (his sister) 
joined him in sending love. At the time Neal Bowen re- 
ceived the letter, Lieutenant Armstrong of the rangers was 
situated at Cuero to see if he could detect my whereabouts. 
He had sent Jack Duncan, a special ranger, to my father-in- 
law's house. Jack pretended to be in some trouble and de- 
cided to buy a small grocery store from Neal Bowen, and 
went so far as to take stock.. 

One day Jack and ISTeal had gone to Rancho and Jack 
noticed that Neal got a letter which he put in his trunk when 
he got home. When Neal left the house Jack opened the 
trunk and got the letter that gave him the information he 
wanted, although he (my wife's brother) only stated that 
lie had joined his sister in love to their father. 

Neal answered the letter at once and in it mentioned some 
litigation which he was involved in over my property. He 
addressed the letter to me, J. H. Swain, Polland, Alabama, 
in care of Neal McMellon, sherift' of Escambia county. 

Now Neal McMellon was a kinsman of my wife's and the 
letter Bowen wrote, which Jack got out of the trunk, men- 
tioned this fact. When Neal had written the letter he asked 
the pretended storekeeper for an envelope, which he gave 
him, but secretly marked the envelope. Neal and Jack went 
to Rancho to get some supplies and mail the letter. Neal 



114 "^^^ I^II^B OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 

went to the postoffice with Jack and mailed the letter. Neal 
stepped out to buy supplies, when Jack told the postmaster 
he would like to get a letter back out of the office which lie 
had just mailed and described it. He said he wished to make 
some alterations in it and the unsuspecting postmaster gave 
it to him. Jack opened the letter, stepped aside and read 
it. He saw at once that he had the information he wanted. 
He wrote to Armstrong to "come and get his horse." Arm- 
strong came up to Coon Hollow, arrested the pretended store 
keeper, placed him in irons and brought him to Cuero in a 
wagon. 

When they got to Cuero they took the first train to Austin 
and consulted Dick Hubbard, the governor of Texas, as to 
e>:traditing me. After this they struck out for Polland, Ala- 
bama. 

Jack came aliead and stopped at Pensacola junction, eight 
miles from Polland, about the 18th of July, 1877. I was at 
this time over on the Stick river, about sixty miles away, but 
Brown Bowen was in the vicinity of the junction and came 
there every day. 

On or about the 19th of July Bowen got on a spree and 
got into a row with Mr. Shipley, the general manager af 
the railroad. He got the worst of the row and the next day 
came back to the junction, vowing vengeance. He said that 
when I came back I would wake things up; that I was not 
the peaceable John Swain everybody thought I was, but 
that I was the notorious John Wesley Hardin. Of course 
such talk as this inflamed the minds of Shipley and his 
friends. 

About this time my partner and myself concluded to go 
to Pensacola to buy our supplies, and of course to play some 
(ards. Now Shep was in the habit of going to Pensacola 
und blowing in his earnings. He was thus well acquainted 



THH I.IFK OF JOHN WESI.KY' HARDIN. II5 

and introduced me as his friend. We all soon got into a 
poker game, Shipley and I having a system understood he- 
tween us which proved a winner. It was all I could do to 
keep Shipley from getting too drunk for us to win the money. 
About the 22nd of July I shipped some groceries to the 
Junction for home consumption from Pensacola. Thus 
Shipley was able to tell Jack Duncan where I was, and fur- 
nished him an extra train to go there at once. When he 
came he soon located me in the poker room, but was afraid 
to tackle me there. So after spending a night watching me 
without daring to make a break he went to the sheriff and 
told him that I would take the train that evening, the 23rd 
of July, 1877, and if he would arrest me alive he would give 
him $500. The sheriff consented to this, and in due time 
I went to the train with my friends, Shep Hardie and Neal 
Campbell, Jim Man and two or three others. At that time 
I was in the habit of smoking a pipe and we all took the 
smoking car, not knowing that I was soon to be attacked. 
The car w^as standing close to the hotel, the gallery or portico 
of which ran parallel with the car. Duncan and the sheriff 
had placed twenty men in the rooms opening on this veran- 
da to be ready for action in a moment's notice. Jack Dun- 
can commanded these and they were stationed immediately 
above the car and mthin twenty-five feet of me, who, with 
my companions, was all unconscious of the impending dan- 
o-er. Armstrong was to work in the cars below, and took 
his stand in the express or baggage car next to the smoker. 
Finally I saw the high sheriff and deputies come through 
the cai and pass out. Then another deputy came in whom 
I had played cards with and from whom I had won $150 or 
$200. He said: 

"Swain, can't you stop over. I have got a roll here and 
if you can beat me you can have it." 



1 16 THK I.IFS OF JOHN WESI<KY HARDIN. 

I said: "Business before pleasure; I can't stop over." 

"Well/^ said he, "we fellows played you for a sucker and 
got left. You seem to be a gentleman; come down again 
and we'll give you a nice game and won't play you for a 
green horn any more.'' 

I told him I was very fond of the game and had been very 
lucky, and hoped at some future time to meet him and his 
friends over the green cloth. I told him it was a case of 
business before pleasure with me now and remarked that 
when I held a good hand I couldn't lay them down. 

"Yes," said he, "and you seem to hold them oftener than 
any one else I ever played with." 

We said good bye and shook hands and I kept smoking 
my meerschaum pipe. In a minute the sheriff and a deputy 
(either of whom would weigh 170 or 180 pounds) came in 
at the door behind me and grabbed me, saying: 

"Surrender! Hold up your hands." 

I asked them what it all meant and appeared amazed. I 
hollered: 

"Eobbers! Protect me." 

I wanted to throw them off their guard or a diversion for 
a second or two. 

Had they done so I would have gotten my pistol. At 
this moment the deputy who had just bidden me good bye 
eame in and asked what was the matter. I said: 

"You know I have done nothing; protect me." 

He pretended to do so, but instead caught hold of my 
legs and threw me down in the aisle. A terrible struggle 
was now going on, and the party from the gallery fired a 
volley into the car. Jim Man, a young man 19 years old, 
jumped up and passed over me, struggling in the aisle, and 
rushed to the north end of the smoker where he was met 
by Armstrong and others, who shot him dead. He jumped 



Il8 THE I.IFE OF JOHN WESLEY^HARDIN. 

out of a window and fell dead, pierced by several fatal balls. 
In the meantime I was fighting for liberty in the aisle with 
my three antagonists, who had been reinforced. They had 
me on my back, two or three men clinging to each arm, some 
on my breast, and others trying to catch my legs, which 
I was using with a vim. Once in a while they would hit 
me over the head with a six-shooter as the unequal fight 
went on. I would not surrender, or keep still. I swore 
I would never surrender at the point of a pistol and I was 
not going to do it now. At this time Armstrong rushed 
into the smoker with a drawn revolver and put it to my head 
and told me if I did not surrender he would blow my brains 
out. I said: 

"Blow away. You will never blow a more innocent man's 
out, or one that will care less." 

Some one else was trying to strike me over the head with 
a revolver when Armstrong called out: 

"Men, we have him now; don't hurt him; he is too brave 
to kill and the first man that shoots him I'll kill him." 

They finally bound me with my hands behind my back, 
with a big cable and then tied me to the seat of the car. I 
still had the stem of my pipe in my mouth and someone pick- 
ed up the bowl, filled it, lit it and gave it to me to smoke. 

When Jack saw I w^s fast he came down from his perch 
and slapped me on the back, saying: 

"John, take a cigar. Oh yes," he said' "John Wesley 
Hardin, you are the worst man in the country, but we have 
got you at last." 

I said: "Stranger, what asylum are you from?" 

He said he was from Texas and was only feeling good over 
the capture of the notorious John Wesley Hardin. He said 
to Armstrong and others standing by: 

"Have you taken his pistol?" 



THK WFB OF JOHN WBSI.EY HARDIN. II9 

They replied no, that I had no gun. Jack Duncan said 
"That's too thin/' and ran his hand between my over and 
undershirt, pulh'ng out a 44 Colts cap and ball six-shoter, 
remarking to the others, "What did I tell you." 

The train pulled out for the junction and I kept demand- 
ing to see the warrant for my arrest and by what legal right 
they had killed Jim Man and captured me. I told the sheriff 
that I wanted protection from these Texas kidnappers, but 
to all this they made no reply. 

Oh, that was one time I wanted to die but could not. I 
remembered how my own brother and relatives had been 
led out of the court house at Comanche, bareheaded and 
barefooted, and hung by a mob. I felt as if a similar death 
awaited me, so I wanted to die now, but could not. I had 
the glad consciousness, however, of knomng that I had done 
all that courage and strength could do and that I had kept 
my oath never to surrender at the point of a pistol. Thus 
was my arrest accomplished on the 23rd of July, 1877. 

We soon arrived at the junction and there I sent my 
loving wife some money. In the meantime my friends at 
Polland, eight miles away, had formed a rescuing party with 
the sheriff at their head and expected to legally release me 
when the train came through Polland, as it generally stop- 
ped there several minutes. But unfortunately the train 
passed through without stopping and they went on to Mobile, 
where they placed me in jail and went off to sleep. 

This was now the 24th of July and I sent for an attorney. 
Young Watts came and after I had told him my case he 
took it. He guaranteed to release me for $500. He got 
out a writ of habeas corpus, and they were in the act of turn- 
ing me loose when Jack Duncan and Armstrong came up 
and changed the whole business by securing a continuance. 
In the meantime Dick Hubbard of Texas had telegraphed 



'I20 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

to the governor of Alabama to hold me, as requisition papers 
were on the way. 

On the night of the 24th these papers came and on the 
morning of the 25th we started for Texas. My wife and 
friends were still on the alert and a party of nine men were 
ready there at the depot to rescue me. But the wily Jack 
Duncan took a hack and carried me to a station several 
miles from Montgomery and we again took the train for 
Texas. He thVis avoided a collision with my friends. 

I knew my only hope now was to escape. My guards were 
kind to me, but were most vigilant. By promising to be 
quiet I had caused them to relax somewhat and they appear- 
ed anxious to treat me kindly, but they knew their life de- 
pended on how they used me. When we got to a little 
town, I think it was Decatur, we had to stop and change 
cars for Memphis. They took me to an hotel, got a room 
and sent for our meals. Jack and Armstrong were now 
getting intimate with me and when dinner came I suggested 
the necessity of removing my cuffs and they agreed to do so. 
Armstrong unlocked the jewelry and started to turn around, 
(^posing his six-shooter to me, when Jack jerked him around 
and pulled his pistol at the same time. "Look out,'' he said, 
"John will kill us and escape." Of course I laughed at him 
and ridiculed the idea. It was really the very chance I was 
looking for, but Jack had taken the play away just before 
it got ripe. I intended to jerk Armstrong's pistol, kill Jack 
Duncan or make him throw up his hands. I could have 
made him unlock my shackles, or get the key from his dead 
body and do it myself. 1 could then have easily made my 
escape. That time never came again. 

We again struck out for Texas and stopped at Memphis, 
where they put me in jail. We took the train again for Texas 
by way of Little Eock, and by tliis time our car was beseiged 



THE I.IFK OF JOHN WKSLKY HARDIN. 121 

by people who had read the account of my capture. It had 
been the same way at Memphis, where people flocked to the 
jail to see me in such numbers that it took a squad of police- 
men to keep them back. One man named Eoe actually rode 
from Memphis to Texarkana to see me and his wish was 
gratified by these gallant officers, who brought him into the 
sleeper where I was trying to rest. 

^'Why," he said, "there is nothing bad in your face. Your 
life has been misrepresented to me. Here is $50. Take it 
from a sympathizer." 

I thanked him and he bid me good bye. 

At every station on to Austin a crowd of curious people 
were at the depot to see me, but I was so well guarded that 
few succeeded. 

When we got to Austin my guards learned that there was 
a tremendous crowd at the depot and so they stopped the 
train and took a hack for the jail. The crowd at the depot 
learned of the move and broke for the jaii. The hack just 
did manage to get there first and they carried me bodily into 
the jail; so when the crowd arrived they failed to see the 
great curiosity. 

I wrote to some of my relatives at once and to my friends, 
many of whom I had not seen for four years. Most of 
them responded and generously came to my assistance with 
influence and means. 

I stayed in Austin jail until the latter part of September 
and then a company of rangers (No. 35) commanded by N. 
0. Eeynolds and accompanied by Sheriff Wilson and his 
deputies escorted me to Comanche. 

The reason I was guarded by such a strong escort was be- 
cause they were afraid that the brutal mob who had hung 
my relatives would hang me. 

After traveling several days we reached Comanche, about 



122 THB LIFK OF JOHN WESI.BY HARDIN. 

160 miles from Austin. Of course our military appearance 
created interest in every town through which we passed. I 
rode in a buggy with Sheriff Wilson, the most of the com- 
pany in front and the lesser part bringing up the rear. We 
camped out every night and my escort did everything in their 
power to make me comfortable, except that they kept me 
securely shackled and cuffed. On arriving at Comanche my 
escort marched up, waited for me to be carried into the jail, 
as I was too heavily shackled to walk. Eeynolds placed 
a guard around the jail and went out to see what the situa- 
tion was. He soon found that feeling was very violent 
against me and that there were 200 men camped two miles 
from town for the purpose of hanging me. 

The sheriff had summoned thirty-five citizens to guard 
me in the jail. Knowing the situation, and feeling some- 
what interested, I told Lieutenant Eeynolds to put the citi- 
zens outside of the jail yard to guard me and his men inside 
if he wished -to save me. He wisely did this. My idea was 
that if the mob made an attack on the jail the citizen guard 
would assist them and if they were inside they would over- 
power the rangers, which they could not do if they were sep- 
arated. 

The brave Eeynolds told me that if the mob attacked me 
or the jail he v/ould arm me and let me out to rough it with 
iiini and liis iiien. Ue would also arm the men in jail, of 
whom there were ten or twelve. He gave this out publicly 
and the mob never came, but I received anonymous letters 
saying that if I put off my trial or got a change of venue 
they would make a demand for me. 

As I did not have the confidence in the rangers I should 
have had I announced ready for trial. I considered a '^de- 
mnnd^' equal to a delivery to the mob, for I had wrongly 
no confidence in the rangers. I remembered how my own 



THE UFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 1 23 

brother and relatives had been hung by a mob and when 
there was a company of rangers in the town at the time and 
ten of them actually on duty. 

I employed to defend me S. H. Renick of Waco, T. L. 
Nugent of Stephenville and Adams of Comanche. Either 
from fear of the mob or some other unknown cause my coun- 
sel allowed the State to put in evidence my character to in- 
fluence the jury without raising any objection. The very 
judge himself was disqualified and biased. He had actually 
given counsel to Frank Wilson about my arrest just before 
the killing of Webb. He was plainly disqualified. They 
never allowed any evidence of my escape to be brought up, 
although I could easily have shown that I gave up to the 
sheriff in good faith and only escaped when the mob dis- 
armed the sherifi^, fired on me, and finally hung my brother 
and cousins. 

The State tried to prove a conspiracy, but utterly failed in 
this, hence the prosecution ought to. have fallen through. 
The State proved themselves that Charley Webb had fired 
at me twice before I drew my pistol^ or that I drew and fired 
as he was shooting his second shot. 

The simple fact is that Charles Webb had really come over 
from his own county that day to kill me, thinking I was 
drinking and at a disadvantage. He wanted to kill me to 
keep up his name, and he made his break on me hke an 
assassin would. He fired his first shot at my vitals when I 
was unprepared, and who blames a man for shooting under 
such conditions? I was at a terrible disadvantage in my 
trial. I went before the court on a charge of murder without 
a witness. The cowardly mob had either killed them or 
run them out of the country. I wsnt to trial in a town in 
which three years before my own brother and cousins had 
met an awful death at the hands of a mob. Who of my 



I 24 THK LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

readers would like to be tried under these circumstances. 
On that jury that tried me sat six men whom I knew to be 
directly implicated in my brother's death. 'No, my readers, 
I have served twenty-five years for the killing of Webb, but 
know ye that there is a God in high heaven who knows that 
I did not shoot Charles Webb through malice, nor tlirough 
anger, nor for money, but to save my own life. 

True, it is almost as bad to kill as to be killed. It drove 
my father to an early grave; it almost distracted my mother; 
it killed my brother Joe and my cousins Tom and William; 
it left my brother's widow with two helpless babes; Mrs. An- 
derson lost her son Ham, and Mrs. Susan Barrickman lost 
her husband, to say nothing of the grief of countless others. 
I do say, however, that the man who does not exercise the 
first law of nature — that of self preservation — is not worthy 
of living and breathing the breath, of life. 

The jury gave me twenty-five years in the penitentiary 
and found me guilty of murder in the second degree. I ap- 
pealed the case. The rangers took me back to Austin to 
await the result of my appeal. Judge White affirmed the 
decision of the lower court and they took, me back to Coman- 
che in the latter part of September, 1878, where I received 
my sentence of twenty-five years with hard labor. 

While I was in that Austin jail I had done everything 
in my power to escape. The cells were made of good ma- 
terial and in fact the jail was a good one, with one set of 
cages on top of the other, separated by sheet iron. I soon 
got so I could make a key that would unlock my cell door 
and put me in the run-around. I made a key to unlock 
that and now all I had to do was to climb to the window 
and saw one of the bars. I could then easily escape. But 
some "trusties" found out the scheme and gave it away 
to the jailor, who placed a guard inside the jail day and 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 1 25 

night. Thus it became impossible for me to do the work in 
the window though I had the key to the cell and the run- 
around. 

There were from sixty to ninety prisoners in that jail all 
the time and at least fifty of these stood ready to inform on 
me any time. There was the trouble about getting out. 

In that jail I met some noted men. Bill Taylor, George 
Gladden, John Eingo, Manning Clements, Pipes and Hern- 
don of the Bass gang, John Collins, Jeff Ake and Brown 
Bowen. 

After receiving my sentence at Comanche they started 
with me to Huntsville, shackled to John Maston a black- 
smith of Comanche convicted for attempting to murder and 
under a two years' sentence. This man afterwards com- 
mitted suicide by jumping from the upper story in the build- 
ing to a rock floor, where he was dashed to pieces. Nat 
Mackey, who was sentenced for seventeen years for killing a 
man with a rock, was chained to Davenport, who had a 
sentence of five years for horse stealing. Thus there were 
four prisoners chained by twoes in a wagon and guarded by 
a sheriff and company of rangers. Of course great crowds 
would flock from everywhere to see the notorious John Wes- 
ley Hardin, from the hoary-headed farmer to the little maid 
hardly in her teens. 

On one occasion a young lady told me she had come over 
to where we were passing the day before and would not 
have missed seeing me for $100. I asked her if she was 
satisfied now. She said: 

"Oh, yes; I can tell everybody I have seen the notorious 
.John Wesley Hardin, and he is so handsome!" 

I said: "Yes, my wife thinks so." 

When we got to Fort Worth the people turned out like 
a Fourth of July picnic and I had to get out of the wagon 



126 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI^EY HARDIN. 

and shake hands for an hour before my guard could get 
me through the crowd. 

We stopped at Fort Worth all day and all night and then 
took the train for Huntsville. We arrived there on the 5th 
of October, 1878, and crowds would come all along the 
route to see us, especially at Palestine. I was astonished to 
see even the convicts in stripes gazing at me when we got 
inside the walls of the penitentiary. 

Then they gave me a breakfast of coffee, bacon, bread and 
molasses, shaved me smooth, cut my hair and weighed me. 
I tipped the scale at 165 pounds. Then they gave me a bath 
and took down all the scars and marks on my body. They 
asked me what my occupation was and assigned me to the 
wheelwright's shop. 

I knew there were a heap of Judases and Benedict Arnolds 
in the world and had had a lifelong experience with the 
meaning of the word treachery. I believed, however, that 
in jail even a coward was a brave man, so I went to work to 
plan my escape. 

I found out where the armory was, about seventy-five 
yards off from the wheelwright's shop, and concluded to un- 
dermine towards it. A carpenter's shop, the superintend- 
ent's and director's office had to be undermined before we 
got there. I took into the conspiracy about seventy-five 
of the best men, mostly life and long term men. Only those 
who were to do the actual work were let into the plan, the 
rest were to blindly trust me to say the word and then follow 
me. The plan was to reach the armory by the underground 
passage and there wait until the guards came in to put up 
their guns and went to eat their supper. We would then 
seize the guns, demand a surrender, take the prison and 
liberate all who wished to go except the rape fiends. I 
perfected my plans about the 1st of November and we began 



THB I<IFE OF JOHN^WESLEY HARDIN. 1 27 

to tunnel towards the armory. We had to tunnel through 
five brick walls twenty-four inches thick. This we easily did 
for we had saw bits, chisels and almost every tool adapted 
to such work. We were working from the wheelwright's 
shop and while one would work the others would watch. 
We used a small rope or cord as a signal. If the man working 
wanted any tools, he would give a signal. By pulling the 
rope we would find a note on the end of it telling anything he 
wished to say. 

So we finished our work quickly and about the 20th of 
Xovember we were waiting for the guards to put up their 
guns before cutting through the pine floor. These guards 
were in the habit of taking outside the walls from 100 to 150 
to work on the outside, and it was when these guards came 
in 'to their supper that we intended to make our break. 
Meanwhile several life convicts rushed to the superintend- 
ent's oifice, told him of the conspiracy and how near it was 
being executed. The superintendent arrested me and nine 
others, putting us in irons. I denied all knowledge of the 
armory conspiracy, they put me in a dark cell on bread 
and water for fifteen days, with a ball and chain attach- 
ment. 

There were twelve of us doing the tunneling. Two told 
it to the authorities and "on pressure" nine others owned 
up. I am certain two long time men were pardoned. Bill 
Owens and Bill Terril from Waco, the latter having a twenty- 
live year sentence. I believe that three others got their 
time cut for the same reason — betraying the plot. 

When they took me out of the dark cell they put me to 
work in the factory. I was now "celling" with a lifetime 
man named John Williams and he was turnkey on our row. 
He was in with me on the tunneling scheme and had played 
traitor, although I was not aware of it. 



128 TH« J,l^n OF JOHN W^SI^^Y HARDIN. 

I now conceived the plan of making keys to all the cells 
on our row in which there were some eighteen or twenty cells 
all locked with padlocks. I soon had the keys ready and 
also had impressions of the keys to the outer gates of the 
prison and had made keys to them which worked well. 

For some time I had been able to dispense with my ball 
and chain. I had cut the brads off that held the shackles 
together and had put on instead a bolt with a tap to it, 
which I could unscrew at will. 

On the 26th of December I gave John Williams the keys 
to see if they would work and he said they worked like a 
charm. I intended on the night of the 26th to unlock my 
door and then all the other cells, muzzle the guard, unlock 
the main prison door and then gate after gate to freedom. 
I determined to resist all opposition and had two good six- 
shooters that a trusty had brought in to me for that purpose. 
That evening I was suddenly arrested and locked up. They 
searched me, found my keys and also the bolt in my shackles; 
in short my cell mate had betrayed me and the game was up. 
That night about twenty officers came in and tied my 
hands and feet. They jerked me down upon a concrete 
floor and stretched me out upon my face. Two men got 
hold of the ropes that held my hands and two more of the 
ropes that held my feet. Then the underkeeper, West, took 
a strap about 20 inches long and 2 1-4 inches thick. It was 
attached to a handle about 12 inches long. He began to 
whip my naked body with this instrument. They were now 
flogging me and every lick left the imprint of every lash, 
of which there were four in this whip, consisting of thick 
pieces of thick harness leather. I heard some one say: 
"DonH hit him in the same place so often." 
At last the superintendent said, "that will do," after they 
had hit me thirty-nine lashes, the limit. 



THE UFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. I29 

My sides and back were beaten into a jelly, and still 
quivering and bleeding they made me walk in the snow 
across to another building, where they placed me in a dark 
cell and threatened to starve .me to death if I did not re- 
veal the plot. I told them I would tell them nothing; that 
I meant to escape and would kill them in a minute if they 
stood in my way. They left me there for three days without 
anything to eat or drink, and on the fourth day I was car- 
ried to another cell in a high fever and unable to walk. I 
stayed there for thirty days. 

About the first of February, 1879, they took me out and 
put me to work in the wood shop. All this time I was plot- 
ting and scheming to get away, but my fellow convicts 
always gave me away and generally got some privilege for 
doing so. I was not able to do the work in the wood shop 
and was in a row all the time with the guard, who had 
orders to watch and work me. He did not work me much 
for when he told me to take hold of a plank I told him I 
couldn't wdthout hurting myself and would refer him to 
the doctor. He would sometimes report me, but that did 
no good as I would sooner have taken the punishment than 
worked there. 

In June, 1879, I was put to work in the boot and shoe 
shop at my own soHcitation and soon became one of the 
best fitters and cutters they ever had. 

By this time I began to realize how much of a traitor 
the average convict was to his fellow. I concluded to try 
bribing a guard, which I succeeded in doing. Jim Hall, the 
man who killed Marshal Gosling, was in this plot. Well, 
to cut a long story short, we got out into the prison yard, 
when thirty armed men arrested us and took us to the dark 
cells. This plot was also given away by a convict. 

They flogged me again, but not so cruelly as before. I 



130 THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

concluded I could make no play that the officers would 
not get on to and was more cautious from that on. My de- 
sire to escape was as strong as ever. 

I was getting along tolerably well for a man in prison and 
began reading a good deal. I managed my work so as to 
make it very light, and took up arithmetic and mathematics 
as a study. I went through Stoddard's arithmetic and 
Davies' algebra and geometry; the balance of my time I de- 
voted to history. 

One night the officers came to my cell and told me to 
come out. They tied me and flogged me again for some 
immaginary crime and flogged about thirty others for noth- 
ing. They may have done this to scare me. 

Now I wanted to get away worse than ever before. I be- 
came more and more prudent in my actions and conversa- 
tions and began getting along all right once more. 

I had now been working in the shop since July, 1879, and 
this was 1883. 

Then three other convicts and I conceived the idea of 
attacking the southwest picket with pistols and trying to 
climb the walls, but we had finally to give this up because 
we could not get the fire arms. Still & Co. were running 
a saddle shop in the walls and this shop ran close to the 
picket spoken of. Eugene Hall was working in this shop and 
Still & Co. were constantly receiving boxes of material by ex- 
press. Eugene Hall and I were friends and he was as anxious 
to escape as I was. Every Sunday we would compare notes. 
I asked him one Sunday if he had a friend outside who 
could be induced to box up some arms and send them to us. 
He said he thought he had. I told him to tell his friend 
to box them up in a black box and send them by express to 
Still & Co. We knew we could see if the black box came 
when the whistle blew and we all went out to dinner. We 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. I3I 

intended to get tlie guns and fight our way out. HalFB 
friend weakened, howevei-, and that game was up for the 
present. 

In the meantime i>ud Bohannon had been assigned to 
Still & Co., and not trusting the man very much, but know- 
ing he wanted to escape, I told Hall to approach him and 
see if he favored my plan, but telling Hall not to mention 
my name. Bohannon liked my plan and at once began to 
execute it. Of course I was in the play, but talked to no 
one but Hall on the subject. On the Sunday before it 
was all to come off I saw Hall and told him that I would 
take one six-shooter and throw down on the guard from 
the southwest window of the shop and tell him that his life 
depended on his actions. If he did not obey I would kill him, 
the distance being only about ten yards. I then wanted him 
and his pals to go up a ladder, take him and his arms away 
and a^\•ait me at the picket. Then we were to go to the State 
stable, get horses and leave. Of course, I said, we may have 
the guard to Idll and we are very apt to have some fighting to 
do, but we can do it so quickly that not even the prisoners 
need know it, much less the town. This was my plan. 

Bohannon wanted to attack the gate keeper and make 
him open the gate. This was not feasible. Then he wanted 
to climb the walls with ladders at a place not practicable. 
Besides all this he wanted to go and hunt up other men to 
make the play after he and Hall got the guns. 

I told Eugene Hall I would have no more to do with it 
unless the men who were in the play would watch the ex- 
press wagon and go at once to Still & Co.'s to get the pistols. 
They must then attack the southwest picket. Hall told me 
that Bohannon would not do that, so I drew out of it. 

Sure enough when the time came I saw the black box come 
in and in a few moments Bohannon came by me and offered 



132 THB lylFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

me a pistol. I declined it. I saw three or four convicts 
out in the yard rushing here and there aimlessly. They 
went to the gate, but the gate keeper, being on the outside, 
got out of their way. They had no certain plan of action 
and fired several shots either in the air or at the pickets. 
They finally surrendered before reaching the walls. Of 
course they whipped them. 

I kept on working in the shoe shop until the fall of 1883, 
when I was taken sick with an abcess in my side and had 
to give up work. I had been shot in 1872 in my side and 
this was the wound that became affected. 

The officials made fun of me and treated me cruelly. I 
was denied a place in the hospital, but had a nurse and was 
permitted to stay in my cell. For eight months it looked 
ms if I never would get well, but finally I began to slowly im- 
prove and when I was able to walk. Assistant Superintend- 
ent Ben McCuUoch wanted me to go to work again, but I re- 
fused because I v/as not able to do so. 

After a few days he locked me up on bread and water. 
When he turned me out I went to work in the tailor shop. 
They put me to work making quilts. I got the guard and 
foreman to give me a certain task and got permission to 
read when I had finished it. 

I was now a constant reader. In the years 1880, 1881, 
1882, I had studied theology and had been superintendent 
of our Sunday School. We had a debating society there, of 
which I was a member and had been president. 

In 1885 I conceived the idea of studying law and wrote 
to the superintendent asking for his advice about what to 
read in order to have a practical knowledge of both civil 
and criminal law. He referred this letter to Col. A. T. 
McKinney, of the Huntsville bar. In a few days I received 
the following letter* 



THE UPK OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 1 35 

Huntsville, 6th May, 1889. 
Hon. Thos. J. Goree: 

Dear Sir — Replying to your favor covering note of Mr. 
John Wesley Hardin, I beg to state that applicants for 
license under the rules of the Supreme Court are usually 
examined on the following books: 

Blackstone's Commentaries, 4 vols. 

Kent^s, 4 vols. 

Stephens on Pleading, 1 vol. 

Storey's Equity, 2 vols. 

Greenleaf on Evidence, 1 vol. 

Parsons on Contracts, 3 vols. 

Daniels on Negotiable Instrumentfl, 2 vols. 

Storey on Partnership, 1 vol. 

Storey's Equity Jurisprudence, 2 vols. 

Revised Statutes of Texas, 1 vol. 

Eor a person who desires to pay apecial attention to crim- 
inal jurisprudence, I would advise him to read Walker's In- 
troduction to American Law, 1 vol., and Bishop's Criminal 
liaw, 2 vols., before reading the course recommended by 
our Supreme Court. 

These books (except the Revised Statutes) can be obtained 
at about $6 per volimie from T. H. Thomas & Co., of St. 
Louis. The Revised Statutes can be obtained from the sec- 
retary of State, Hon. J. M. Moore, Austin, Texas, for $2.60. 
Yours truly, A. T. M'KINNEY. 

[Here abruptly ends the Hardin manuscript — Pubhshers.] . 



APPENDIX. 



Some idea of the Hardin of 1881 in the State prison at 
Huntsville may be gleaned from letters written to his wife. 
In one of them he says, (July, 1881). 



134 '^B[® 'LIFK OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 

*'It is now about 8 o'clock p. m. and I am locked into my 
cell for the night. By special permission from my keeper 
I now write you. I can tell you that I spent this day in 
almost perfect happiness, as I generally spend the Sabbaths 
here, something that I once could not enjoy because I did 
not know the causes or results of that day. I had no idea 
before how it benehts a man in my condition. Although 
we are all prisoners here we are on the road to progress. "J. 
S.^' and I are both members of our societies and we are look- 
ed upon as the leaders by our associates, of which we have 
a goodly number. John is president of the Moral and 
Christian Society and I am secretary of our Debating Club. 
I spoke in our debatiiig club this evening on the subject of 
Woman's Eights. John held that women should have equal 
rights with man and I held they shouldn't. We had a lively 
time. I followed him, winding up the debate for the day. 
John is the champion for woman's rights, but he failed to 
convince the judges, who after they had listened to my ar- 
gument, decided in my favor," etc. 



The following is a copy of the pardon and restoration to 
citizenship granted to Hardin by Governor Hogg: 

PEOCLAMATION. 

By the Governor of the State of Texas. 
To All to Whom These Presents Shall Come: 

Whereas, at the spring term, A. D. 1878 in the district 
court of Camanche county. State of Texas, John Wesley Har- 
din was convicted of murder in the second degree and sen- 
tenced to the Penitentiary for twenty-five years; concurrent 
with which sentence is a sentence for two years in the dis- 
trict court of DeWitt county, Texas, January 1st, 1892, for 
manslaughter, and 

Whereas, For the reason that he has served out his term 
of sentence and was discharged from the penitentiary on the 
17th day of February, 1894, that good citizens ask it; 

Now, therefore, I, J. S. Hogg, Governor of Texas, do by 
virtue of the authority vested in me by the constitution and 



THE LIFK OF JOHN WHSLKY HARDIN. I35 

laws of this State, hereby, for the reasons specified, now on 
file in the ofhce of the Secretary of State, do grant to said 
convict, John Wesley Hardin, full pardon in both cases and 
restore him to full citizenship and the right of suffrage. 

In testimony whereof I have hereto signed my name and 
caused the seal of the State to be affixed at the city of 
Austin, this 16th day of March, A. D. 1894. 

J. S. HOGG, Governor. 
GEO. W. SMITH. Secretary of State. 

Hardin, after being released from the Penitentiary, joined 
his children in Gonzales county and finally located in the 
town of Gonzales, where he entered into the practice of law. 

During the exciting political campaign of 1894 he took an 
active interest in local politics, supporting Coleman against 
W. E. Jones for sheriff of Gonzales county. A bitter newspa- 
per controversy grew out of this between Jones and Hardin 
and friends of both parties at one time feared serious trouble 
between the two men. After the election of' Jones, Hardin . 
moved to Karnes county. 

Early in 1895 he married Miss Callie Lewis of London, 
Tex., his first wife having died shortly before his release 
from prison. Soon after this he moved to El Paso, where 
he lived until his death. 

We publish the following letters from prominent men 
written to Hardin on his release: 

Hon. Barnett Gibbs writes him from Dallas under date 
February 18th, 1894: 

Dear Sir — I see from the News that you have been par- 
doned and am glad of it, for, however great your offense, I 
feel sure that you have in you the making of a useful man. 
I hope you will adhere to your good resolutions. Many a 
man has started in life and in law at your present age and 
made a success. You have my best wishes in your new 
life and I will at any time be glad to serve you. Lawyers, 
as a rule, are generous and liberal in their views and I don't 
think any of them will fail to appreciate your desire to make 
up the time you have lost in atoning for your offenses against 
society. If you should come to Dallas, call upon me. Yours 
respectfully,* BARNETT GIBBS. 



136 THE LIFE OF JOHN WKSLKY HAKDIN. 

Judge W. S. Fly, associate justice of the Court of Ap- 
peals, in sending him a full pardon from Governor Hogg, 
writes: 

Dear Sir — Enclosed 1 send you a full pardon from the 
Governor of Texas. I congratulate you on its reception and 
trust that it is the day dawn of a bright and peaceful future. 
There is time to retrieve a lost past. Turn your back upon 
it w ^.h all its suffering and sorrow and fix your eyes upon 
the fi.ture with the determination to make yourself an hon- 
orable and useful member of society. The hand of every 
true man will be extended to assist you in your upward course 
and I trust that the name of Hardin will in the future be 
associated with the performance of deeds that will ennoble 
his family and be a blessing to humanity. Did you ever 
read Victor Hugo^s masterpiece, "Les Miserabies?" If not, 
you ought to. read it. It paints in graphic words the life of 
one who had tasted the bitterest dregs of life's cup, but in his 
Christian manhood rose above it almost like a god and left 
behind him a path luminous with good deeds. With the best 
wishes for vour welfare and happines, I am, yours very truly, 

W. S. FLY. 

Hardin has often been accused of being the real murderer 
of Thomas Haldeman, although Brown Bowen was hung for 
the crime at Cuero in 1878. On the scaffold Bowen reiterat- 
ed his statement that Hardin and not he was the murderer. 

In a letter written from the Austin jail. May 18, 1878, 
Hardin writes his wife: 

"Your pa and Matt came to see me on the 15th. Matt was 
the same as ever and your pa too. Of course it is reasonable 
to suppose your pa has done everything he could to save 
poor Brown, but to no advantage. He is troubled al- 
most to death. He could do nothing. Jane, dearest, I 
think as much of your pa and family as ever and blame him 
for nothing, although I have been badly treated. Dear one, 
on your account and sister Matt's I forgive your pa. He 
and Matt send their love to you and family. Dear one, 
your pa wanted to know if there was a statement I could 
make that would save Brown. I told him no, not an honor- 



THE I^IFK OF JOHN WBSI.EY HARDIN. 1 37 

able, truthful one, and I told him I hoped he did not want 
me to make a false one. I told him a true statement would 
do him no good and a false one I would not make. I told 
him I would do the best I could, as he insisted that the 
governor would not allow him even thirty days. So I re- 
tired to my cell. They came back the next morning and 
asked the jailor for the statement. The jailor told me they 
were there, but I made no reply. In about ten minutes I 
received the following note: 

''Brother John — You told me you would make a true state- 
ment about my brother. 0, God I why didn't you ? 0, my 
God! my poor brother has to be hung. 0, my God! do some- 
thing for him on my account. MATT E. BOWEN.'' 

I answered her note: 

"Dear Sister — My will is good will, but let every tub stand 
on its own bottom. You ask me to do this for your sake. 
For your sake I would do anything honorable, but I can 
not be made a scapegoat of, and a true statement will do 
your brother no good, and a false one I will not make. Sis- 
ter, I have a statement already, a true one, and will give it 
to you or your pa and you can do as you please with it. I 
am, your sympathizing brother, JOHN W. HAEDIN." 

In a letter to his wife just after the hanging of Bowen he 
said: 

*T\(Iatt nor your father ever called for the paper. Dear, I 
forgive poor Brown for his false statements, and may God 
forgive him. Even after the cap was taken off him he said 
he was innocent but that John Wesley Hardin did it. He 
then fell seven feet and lived seven seconds. The whole 
thing was witnessed by 4500 people. May his poor soul rest 
in peace and may God forgive his sins." 

On June 22nd, 1879, he writes to Manning Clements from 
Huntsville on the same subject: 

"As to the report in the Galveston News that I am the 
murderer of Tom Halderman, I do not consider it worthy of 
a denial, for I have never had courage to take a man's life 
as Halderman's was taken. Any one who ever says that I 
ever said I killed him is a liar and a mischief making scoun- 



138 THE LIFK OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

drel, and would steal half dollars from his dead mother's 
eyes for gain. It looks as if some one wants to make a 
scapegoat of me, but that game won't work." 

We publish the following from the El Paso Times of date 
of April 23rd, 1895. Hardin evidently had a difficult case 
in the criminal dockets of the El Paso courts. Juarez is the 
Mexican town just across the Kio Grande from El Paso. The 
Times says: 

''The toughs who ralUed around the imprisoned McEose 
and Queen in Juarez gave it out that they would bulldoze 
Attorney John Wesley Hardin if he tried professionally to 
defeat their schemes to defeat extradition. Last night Mr. 
Hardin met the gang in Juarez and slapped their faces one 
after another.'* 



THE DEATH OF HAEDIN. 

The El Paso Daily Herald of August 20th, 1895, gives the 
following account of the killing of Hardin: 

"Last night between 11 and 12 o'clock San Antonio street 
was thrown into an intense state of excitement by the sound 
of four pistol shots that occurred at the Acme saloon. Soon 
the crowd surged against the door and there, right inside, 
lay the body of John Wesley Hardin, his blood flowing over 
the floor and his brains oozing out of a pistol shot wound 
that had passed through his head. Soon the fact became 
known that John Selman, constable of Precinct No. 1, had 
fired the fatal shots that had ended the career of so noted 
a character as Wes Hardin, by which name he is better known 
to all old Texans. For several weeks past trouble has been 
brewing and it has been often heard on the streets that 
John W^esley Hardin would be the cause of some killing 
before he left the town. 

"Only a short time ago Policeman Selman arrested Mrs. 
McEose, the mistress of Hardin, and she was tried and con- 
victed of carrying a pistol. This angered Hardin and when 
he was drinking he often made remarks that showed he was 
bitter in his feelings towards young John Selman. Selman 



THK LIFE OF JOHN WES1.KY HARDIN. 139 

paid no attention to these remarks, but attended to his duties 
and said nothing. Lately Hardin had become louder in his 
abuse and had continually been under the influence of 
liquor and at such times he was very quarrelsome, even get- 
ting along badly with some of his friends. This quarrel- 
some disposition on his part resulted in his death last night 
and it is a sad warning to all such parties that the rights of 
others must be respected and that the day is past when a 
person having the name of being a bad man can run rough 
shod over the law and rights of other citizens. This morn- 
ing early a Herald reporter started after the facts and found 
John Selman, the man who fired the fatal shots, and his 
statement was as follows: 

"I met Wes Hardin about 7 o'clock last evening close to 
the Acme saloon. When we met^ Hardin said: 

" *^YouVe got a son that is a bastardly, cowardly s — of a 
b— .' 

"I said: ^Which one?' 

"Hardin said: 'John, the one that is on the police force. 
He pulled my woman when I was absent and robbed her of 
$50, which they would not have done if I had been there.' 

"I said: 'Hardin, there is no man on earth that can talk 
about my children like that without fighting, you cowardly 
s — of a b — .' 

"Hardin said: 'I am unarmed.' 

"I said: 'Go and get your gun. I am armed.' 

"Then he said, 'I'll go and get a gun and when I meet you 
I'll meet vou smoking and make you pull like a wolf around 
the block? 

"Hardin then went into the saloon and began shaking 
dice with Henry Brown. I met my son John and Capt. Can* 
and told them I expected trouble when Hardin came out of 
the saloon. I told my son all that had occurred, but told 
him not to have anything to do with it, but to keep on his 
beat. I also notified Capt. Carr that I expected trouble 
with Hardin. I then sat down on a beer keg in front of the 
Acme saloon and waited for Hardin to come out. I insisted 
on the police force keeping out of the trouble because it waa 



140 THE IvIFE OF JOHN WESI.BY HARDIN. 

a personal matter between Hardin and myself. Hardin had 

insulted me personally. 

"j^bout 11 o'clock Mr. E. L. Shackleford came along and 
met me on the sidewalk. He said: 
" ^Hello^ what are you doing here?' 

•"'Then Shackleford insisted on me going inside and tak- 
ing a drink, but I said, ^No, I do not want to go in there 
as Hardin is in there and I am afraid we will have trouble.' 
^^Shackleford then said: ^Come on and take a drink any- 
how, but don't get drunk.' Shackleford led me into the sa- 
loon by the arm. Hardin and Brown were shaking dice at 
the end of the bar next to the door. While we were drink- 
ing I noticed that Hardin watched me very closely as we 
went in. When he thought my eye was off him he made 
a break for his gun in his hip pocket and I immediately 
pulled my gun and began shooting. I shot him in the head 
first as I had been informed that he wore a steel breast plate. 
As I was about to shoot the second time some one ran against 
me and I think I missed him, but the other two shots were at 
his body and I think I hit him both times. My son then 
ran in and caught me by the arm and said: 
" 'He is dead. Don't shoot any more.' 
"I was not drunk at the time, but was crazy mad at the 
way he had insulted me. 

"My son and myself came out of the saloon together and 
when Justice Howe came I gave my statenient to him. My 
wife was very weak and was prostrated when I got home. I 
was accompanied home by Deputy Sheriff J. C. Jones. I 
was not placed in jail, but considered myself under arrest. 
I am willing to stand any investigation over the matter. I 
am sorry I had to kill Hardin, but he had threatened mine 
and my son's life several times and I felt that it had come 
to that point where either I or he had to die. 

(Signed.) JOHN SELMAN." 

Frank Patterson, the bartender at the Acme saloon, testi- 
fied before the coroner as follows: 

"My name is Frank Patterson. I am a bar tender at pres- 
ent at the Acme saloon. This evening about 11 o'clock J. 
W. Hardin was standing with Henry Brown shaking dice 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. I4I 

and Mr. Selman walked in at the door and shot him. Mr. 
G. L. Shacklef ord was also in the saloon at the time the shoot- 
ing took place. Mr. Selman said something as he came in at 
the door. Hardin was standing with his back to Mr. Selman. 
I did not see him face around before he fell or make any 
motion. All I saw was that Mr. Selman came in the door, 
eaid something and shot and Hardin fell. Don't think Har- 
din ever spoke. The first shot was in the head. 

(Signed.) F. F. PATTEKSON." 

Mr. E. L. Shacklef ord testified as follows: 

"My name is E. L. Shackleford; am in the general broker- 
age business. When I came down the street this evening 
I had understood from some parties that Mr. Hardin had 
made some threats against Mr. Selman, who had formerly 
been in my employ and was a friend of mine. I came over 
to the Acme saloon, where I met Mr. Selman. At the time I 
met Mr. Selman he was in the saloon with several others and 
was drinking with them. I told him I had understood there 
was occasion for him to have trouble, and having heard of the 
character of the man with whom he would have trouble, I 
advised him as a friend not to get under the influence of 
liquor. We walked out on the sidewalk and came back into 
the saloon, I being some distance ahead of Selman, walking 
towards the back of the saloon. There I heard shots fired. 
I can't say who fired the shots, as I did not see it. I did not 
turn around, but left immediately. The room was full of 
powder smoke, and I could not have seen anjrthing anyhow. 
(Signed) "E. L. SHACKELFORD.^' 

Mr. R. B. Stevens, the proprietor of the Acme saloon, said: 

"I was on the street and some one told me there was likely 
to be trouble at my saloon between Wes Hardin mul John 
Selman, Sr. I came down to the saloon and walked in. Sel- 
man was sitting outside the door. Hardin was standing just 
inside the door at the bar, shaking dice with Henry Brown. 
I walked on back into the reading room and sat down where 
I could see the bar. Soon Selman and Shackelford came 
in and took a drink. I then understood Shackelford to say 
to Selman: 'Come out, now; you are drinking, and I don't 



142 THE I.IFK OF JOHN WESI.EY HARDIN. 

want you to have any trouble/ They went out together. I 
then supposed Selman had gone away and there would be 
no trouble. I leaned back against a post and was talking to 
Shorty Anderson, and could not see the front door, and do 
not know who came in. When Selman and Shackelford came 
m they took a drink at the inside end of the bar. Hardin 
and Brown were standing at the end of the bar next the door. 
I did not see Selman when the shooting took place. When 
I went into the barroom Hardin was lying on the floor near 
the door and was dead. I walked to the door and looked out. 
Selman was standing in front with several others, Capt. Carr 
among them. When Capt. Carr came into the saloon I asked 
him to take charge of Hardin^s body and keep the crowd out. 
He said he could not move the body until the crowd viewed 
it. I saw Carr take two pistols off Hardin's body. One was 
a white-handled pistol and the other a black-handled one. 
They were both 41 caliber Colts. The bullet that passed 
through Hardin's head struck a mirror frame and glanced 
off and fell in front of the bar at the lower end. In the floor 
where Hardin fell are three bullet holes in triangular shape 
about a span across. They range straight through the floor." 
Henry Brown testified as follows: 

"My name is H. S. Brown. I am in the grocery business 
in El Paso with Mr. Lambert. I dropped into the Acme sa- 
loon last night a little before 11 o'clock and met Mr. Hardin 
and several other parties in there, and Mr. Hardin offered 
to shake with me. I agreed, and shook first; he shook back, 
and said he'd bet me a quarter on the side he could beat me. 
We had our qiiarters up and he and I were shaking dice. I 
heard a shot fired, and Mr. Hardin fell at my feet at my left 
side. I heard three or four shots fired. I then left, went 
out the back door, and don't know what occurred afterwards. 
When the shot was fired Mr. Hardin was against the bar, fac- 
ing it, as near as I can say, and his back was towards the di- 
rection the shot came from. I did not see him make any ef- 
fort to get his six-shooter. The last words he spoke before 
the first shot was fired were, 'Four sixes to beat,' and they 
were addressed to me. For a moment or two before this he 
had not spoken to anyone but me, to the best of my recollec- 



THE LIFE OF JOHN WESLEY HARDIN. 143 

tion. I had not the slightest idea that anyone was quarreling 
there from anything I heard. 

(Signed) "H. S. BROWN." 

The following evidence was given Justice Howe this af- 
ternoon by the three physicians whose names are signed 
thereto : 

^'We, the undersigned, practicing physicians, hereby certi- 
fy that we have efamined the gunshot wounds on the person 
o( the deceased, John Wesley Hardin, and it is our opinion 
that the wound causing death was caused by a bullet; that 
the bullet entered near the base of the skull posteriorly and 
came out at the upper corner of the left eye. 

(Signed) "S. G. SHERAED, 

"W. N. VILAS, 
"ALWARD WHITE." 

The wounds on Hardin's body were on the back of the 
head, coming out just over the left eye. Another shot in 
the right breast, just missing the nipple, and another one 
through the right arm. The body was embalmed by Under- 
taker Powell and will be interred at Concordia at 4 p. m. 



THE KILLING OF SELMAN. 

Hardin's slayer did not long survive his victim. The fol- 
lowing newspaper account details the manner of his death at 
the hands of ex-Sheriff George Scarborough, of Jones coun- 
ty-, on the 5th of April, 1896: 

"El Paso, Texas — John Selman, the victor of not less than 
twenty shooting affrays in Texas, the exterminator of "bad 
men" and the slayer of John Wesley Hardin, is dying to- 
night with a bullet hole through his body. About three 
months ago Selman and United States Deputy Marshal Geo. 
Scarborough had a quarrel over a game of cards, since which 
occurrence the relations between them have not been cordial. 
This morning at 4 o'clock they met in the Wigwam saloon 
and both were drinking. Scarborough says that Selman said, 
"Come, I want to see you," and that the two men walked into 



144 THB hlPH OF JOHN WKSI^KY HARDIN. 

an alley beside the saloon, and Selman, whose son is in Juar- 
ez, Mexico, in jail on a charge of abducting a young lady 
from there to this side, said to Scarborough: "I want you 
to come over the river with me this morning. We must get 
that boy out of jail." 

Scarborough expressed his willingness to go with Selman, 
but stated that no bad breaks must be made in Juarez. Scar- 
borough says that Selman then reached for his pistol, with 
the remark, "I beheve I will kill you." Scarborough pulled 
his gun and began shooting. At the second shot Selman fell, 
and Scarborugh fired two more shots as Selman attempted 
to rise. When Selman was searched no pistol could be found 
on him or anywhere around him. He says he had a pistol, 
but that it was taken from him after he fell and before the 
police reached him. Scarborugh's first shot hit Selman. in 
the neck. The next two shots also took effect, one through 
the left leg just above the knee and the other entering the 
right side just under the lower rib. A fourth wound in the 
right hip is supposed to have been caused by Selman's pistol 
going off prematurely, as the ball ranged downward. Scar- 
borough is about 38 years old. He was born in Louisiana 
and was raised in Texas, and for several years was sheriff of 
Jones county. Selman was raised on the Colorado river in 
Texas. He was about 58 years old and has lived a stormy 
life. When not drinking he was as gentle as a child, but he did 
not know what fear was, and has killed not less than twenty 
outlaws. He was a dead shot and quick with his gun. He 
was an old officer in the service. Some years ago he fought 
a band of cattle thieves in Donna Anna county, New Mex- 
ico, killing two and capturing the others, four in all. He 
killed Bass Outlaw, a deputy United States Marshal, in El 
Paso a few years ago." 



